by

Poetry: Inside the Cave

Another fiery hot headache erupts inside your skull
turning pale cheeks crimson. Disappearing beneath
a thin, black blanket—you retreat into the cave’s deep
crisp darkness. I suppress bubbling anger’s hot breath
tight inside infinities compassionate heart; draining
like cups lining crowded cracked windowsill. Please,

be okay. Worry lines crease, carve my aging mom face—
chiseled rock tracing waters long cascading movements
through life’s echoey darkness. Foamy pools of cooling
relief sit waiting for moments to pass, for pacing eons
to eek by into light’s laughing return. Heart remembers
every nighttime outcry, each soothing back rub. Please,

be okay. Reaching through foggy depths flash flooded
with writhing madnesses ugly nightmares, your fingers
wind tight around blankets edge; my feather-soft motherly
kisses on soaked brows do nothing. Anger ripples dirty
clothes piled high igniting guilt’s powerful ringing rage
pounding ancient rocks into fine powdery dust. Please,

be okay. Fear transforms uneven tapering columns
into screeching monsters to slay. Drawing wet sword
angry words drip, drip, drip through silence too thick
for thinking. Screams soften by plunging heavy, headfirst
into icy water’s depth to see through stinging eyes past
adventures where love’s sweet patience held fast. Please,

be okay. Lashing, tearing with pain’s tired hoarse voice
blame begets blame until desperate razor-sharp rockslides
throw open windows repose letting sweet swirling wind
signal truce. Whispered kindness wipes at particles left
stinging, laughing off this dance, forgetting how darkness
clung everywhere at once—embracing love’s shining light.

My teenage son suffers from chronic migraines. While I strive to be loving, kind, and motherly at all times, anger bubbles forth when he’s down. It’s anger at the situation, but it becomes anger at everything. We fight when it’s over as if we can keep it from returning by scaring it away. I’m not proud of this pattern and this poem is my attempt at processing my feelings.

34 thoughts on “Poetry: Inside the Cave”

  1. I am so sorry for both of you. I have been suffering from migraines since my teenage years, and I definitely understand your anger and pain in watching your child suffer from them, too. I have one today as a matter of fact. I finally found a medication that works for me, but, as you can probably tell by my writing, it knocks me silly. I will pray for you both; it’s the strongest thing I know to do.

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  2. I can totally understand and get you, Bridgette.

    Writing is a kind of therapy, a platform to express oneself. It’s good to vent it all out in such a creative way, so that others can empathise with you and tell you that you’re not alone.

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    • Thank you, Harshi! I appreciate your kind words so much. Yes, I’m really leaning into the therapeutic elements of poetry in my attempt at processing all these big feelings we humans have. It’s so important to know we aren’t alone.

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  6. Oh wow! I can relate to this and I’m so sorry. My favorite line- “angry words drip, drip, drip through silence too thick” being a mom with a kid who’s hurting is heartbreaking. This poem is incredible. Gut wrenching and heart on your sleeve kind of incredibleness.

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  8. Brigette, my partner gets migraines, though not so many these days. He has learned that some foods are triggers, so he has eliminated most sweets and now eats a really healthy diet.
    I hear you when you talk of your helplessness; I was the same! This may sound insensitive, however, I learned to allow the migraine to have its way without being affected by it myself. This meant that, when he recovered, I was there fresh and able to continue life with more ease. I know this helped him enormously.

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    • We’ve been dealing with these for the last two years and I’ve slowly learned to do the same. I used to sit on his floor and worry myself silly. Now, I still worry and get angry, but I try hard to keep it to myself. It’s always a struggle.

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      • It’s definitely a journey!
        I found, for me, it was one little step after another until, finally, I didn’t let the migraine became all encompassing.
        I truly wish you both well.
        xoxoxo

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  14. It’s interesting to see migraines from the loved one’s perspective. Scrolling up through comments, I see you’ve already started coming around to the idea of just letting your son be until he’s better. That’s really all you can do- make sure he’s set up for healing in a nice dark, quiet place and then just leave him be. Anything more will just do more harm and make you that much more frustrated. I remember my husband freaking out because he just wanted to help and didn’t know what was going on because he’d never seen a migraine in action before, and when I finally had the strength to respond all I could do was hiss angrily at him “it’s just a migraine, turn out the light and shut up”. All around, not a fun time for anyone. If you ever want to hear about what has worked/is working for me that you might want to try (if you haven’t already) for your son, lemme know. Otherwise, I’m not going to butt in and overstep. Just take more support hugs for now. ❤ ❤

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