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“Before” was something my dreaming mind could allow for my beautiful young son. It is the dream of analyst as mother, healer, holder of pain, and dispeller of convictions of abandonment. “After” holds the grief of making a nightmare come true—only momentarily abated by a taste of the intimacy of boy and mother; self-part and analyst. In Before and After, an analysis lay waste to repetitive enactment unnavigated and unresolved.
She IS my mother,Lost, found, confusion, desire.How?Why?Making sense of the longing
I will bring her my sweet boy, he will have what I have not had; a mother’s love from my mother.
She will see that I am not all that I may beShe will see that I made him,His beauty, his life, his joy,