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

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 stops-
looks back.
She sees the faces that she loves.

He loves.

She she she
she gets it
In a sudden flash:
It was never she.

He
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.

💓

 

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2 thoughts on “She

  1. He…
    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.

    This last part hits home for me as well. I too grew up in a broken home, except it was my father who was in and out of my life. My mother struggled with alcoholism throughout my childhood and it was hard for her to ever realize that my life was also about me and not just how I fit into her world. I imagine it is difficult, now that I have small children of my own, to see their lives as individuals and not just contributors to my life.

    Keep on writing and let the emotions flow but know that forgiveness is the ultimate freedom for you as I’m sure, much like my own mother, her guilt is heavy -even if it is masked.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for your words.
      Forgiveness is always key, because until you let go of that pain that you’re carrying around, you can never really break the cycle.
      (You=me=anyone)
      My mom is pretty awesome, and we are close as friends. We have had time to develop a friendly relationship that still has a lot of love in it. It took a lot of hard work, fights and long periods of not talking to each other.
      I had a good upbringing with my grandparents, so realizing that they are my parents was enlightening. Seeing her grow as a woman and step up to be there for my little brothers gives me hope. It’s never too late.

      Liked by 1 person

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