By: Mary P. Douglas

My son and I, we live each other’s lives.
She said, “That’s good. You can relate.”
That’s not the words that came to this mother’s mind.

My son and I, we live each other’s lives.
We know the torment of the mind.
The battle of will.
The ups, the downs.
The agitation, the elation.

My son and I, we live each other’s lives.
We see each other’s souls although there’s 30 years between
The terrifying emotions that pull us together and rip us apart.
My son and I, we live each other’s lives.
It makes a mother cry to not be able to stop the cycle.
To stand helpless at times,
As destruction tears through her son’s eyes.

My son and I, we live each other’s lives.
He too experiences the helplessness,
He hears his mother’s cries.
The kind for which there is no comfort.

My son and I, we live each other’s lives.
Family strong,
Blood runs deep,
We express ourselves differently, yet we are the same.
It cannot, will not change.

My son and I, we live each other’s lives.