As I have said, I don’t remember my mother leaving me. But honestly, I don’t remember much else from these journals. That isn’t going to stop my exploration.
This is a poem I wrote on a couple of newspaper articles I found from May 1996. I was 5.
My mom had come home to visit from England, where she had a new family. She took me to visit my family in Red Deer, and when we never showed up at the Greyhound station, my grandparents went on red alert.
The media reacted in a way that was very hard on my entire family, and my mom was charged with abduction, seeing as my grandparents were my legal guardians at the time.
I have based this poem mostly off of what my grandpa said to the reporter, since I don’t trust much else.
“She wants to pick up the pieces but we’re not convinced she’s going about it the right way.”
She wants to pick up the pieces
Will she do it the right way?
I’m not convinced.
She wants what’s best for everyone
Can she really know what’s best?
She’s too young.
She wants him right there by her side
But she can’t see the thorns.
It’s too late.
She wants him to have everything
But that’s just what he has.
She can’t think.
She’s struggling to fix the past
But that’s not in her power.
It’s been done.
She takes him, runs-
She sees the faces that she loves.
She she she–
she gets it
In a sudden flash:
It was never she.
That tiny boy who wears your face,
He wears their heart now,
that’s the thing…
It must have been so hard for you to see:
It’s about me.