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A poem regarding my life |
Mother – Who?
Mother, who are you? Is it you who bathes me Feeds me, and keeps me warm? Or her the one who lets me play, Lets me get dirty, and smiles so much more? Do you tuck me in every night? Or let me stay up until I am so tired on the weekends? Mother, who are you? Do you wake up and go to the mill each day? Or are you the one who cuts wood and hauls buckets of water? Do you make sure that everything is always so clean? Or the one on weekends that has dirt embedded that won’t come off? You are here every night. And I see her each weekend. Yet still I don’t know the truth of it all. Mother, who are you? The one who fixes my scratches and scrapes? Do you take the time to say I love you? Or is that just something I should know? She looks at me with love Yet says nothing as if afraid But of what is she afraid? It must be something I don’t know. Mother, who are you? Why was he the one to tell me, that you are not? Were the secrets and lies so great? You felt the need not to tell me? I look at him incredulously as he says “That is your mother, over there” He is my grandfather, is he lying? Mother who are you? I can call each of you mother, One for raising me the other for giving me life However, still it is lies, as we are related, However not as mother and child. We share the same father However you adopted me So are you still my mother? Mother, who are you? Legally by the papers you are my mother, Legally by law it says she gave up her right But when the truth is known, And the secrets and lies are found out She was tricked, because of your shame. So many years went by without knowing Knowing that you are a step-sister Mother, who are you? Finding her, again, twenty-five years have passed. There is no bitterness there, as she still smiles She looks at me still with the love in her eyes, However she still cannot bring herself to say those words, Is it the fear of rejection all over again? No, I don’t think so, I know deep down the love is there, She was just never allowed to show it. Mother, who are you? The one with love in her eyes, for the child stolen, |