the wise one asked me: do you still cry about your past?
i replied: i do. i mourn for
the little girl who was an imposition, only always in the way... i cry for her. i hurt for her.
i came to my parents later in their lives. mother was older than most birth mothers of that era. father was too old, had been through too much.
others were taken aback. it was not a question of keeping a foetus, that was simply not a question that was asked in that era. it was more of do whatever you need to for that baby to be born.
lip service said you are wanted. actions not so much. reflecting back on the childhood.
everything little thing was responded to as a "what now"
i remember a lot of concern over discolored skin when they didn't see that it was caused by a brass chain worn as a necklace. i remember waking up all alone in a hospital room when i was a four-year old...not knowing how i got there, but it was too much of an imposition for my mother to stay with me so that i would not wake alone and afraid.
the only thing i ever got was an admission, by her, that child abuse need not be physical... need not be loud and obnoxious.
i mourn for the little girl who was an imposition, only always in the way... i cry for her. i hurt for her.
