I can only imagine what was going through her mind
That made her leave her baby-girl behind
Was it because the father was in some way unkind?
Or was there someone else she had to find?
Without nurturing or love as a secure base
How would she learn to fit in with the human race?
A few months later another baby girl was born
Mom decided to keep this one, she wasn’t torn
The lost relationship, society should mourn
When the sign of mother is selectively worn
You might ask what happened to that first child?
Dealt with abuse and neglect would be putting it mild
Living with blood relations called strangers or neighbors almost forgotten
To be seen by all, but never heard, though viewed as rotten
The taught her that being bad was the only way to get their attention
Because unless she was cooking or cleaning, her name was never mentioned
Whether stripped naked or made to sleep under the bed
Was there any wonder that she wished they were all dead
Confused about life she joined the military
Only added to the baggage she thought she’d always carry
What she didn’t know was that the woman who gave birth to her wasn’t a mother
On the phone at 41 she heard this secret which was like no other
The father, though just as guilty, his thoughts were always clear
It was from her, the truth, which she wanted to hear
Not the greatest story to tell before bed
In reality sometimes the truth is better left unsaid.
by Deborah McCreath Akbar