THE CHILD I WAS
The child I was had
long blonde hair (combing optional)
freckles that multiplied in the summer
dirty fingernails from playing in the mud
scabs on her knees and elbows
baby dolls and a green bicycle and a room of her own at the top of the stairs
a grandmother who taught her to sew
a grandfather who taught her to hammer
a mother that loved her with all that she had in her
and a daddy-sized hole in her heart
divorce wasn’t talked about
support groups for single moms didn’t exist
and unfeeling teachers forced me
to make cards for Father’s Day
filled with words of love for a man I didn’t know
cards I wanted to save for someday
when I met him
cards I would throw in the garbage
on the way home from school
before my mother could find them
long before I learned about genetics
I wondered what parts of him
made up what parts of me
and why just being me
was never enough
when people ask me how I came to be a writer
I often tell them it’s because I had no father
and all my life I’ve been making up stories about who is
and why he never came back for me
pretending he was off adventuring
pretending he would someday return to claim me
righting my upside-down world
pretending anything
was easier than accepting that maybe
he was never coming back
because he never wanted me at all
the child I was
wanted so much to believe
that anything was possible
that all fathers love their daughters
that all families belong together
but fairy tales don’t often come true
and little girls grow up to learn
that some holes are best left alone
before they swallow you whole
and you lose yourself
to what you never knew
and forget
who you have become
@copyright Susan Taylor Brown 2010
All Rights Reserved
Absolutely beautiful.
Thank you.
Beautiful and sad. The yearning is so palpable.
Thank you, Jama. I imagine there will be a lot of sad as I work my way through things this month but hopefully I’ll come out of it all in the sunshine.
Powerful, Susan. You made me feel that daddy sized hole. An amazing writer you are.
Thank you for the kind words, Deb. These are all going to be quick poems written in one sitting so I love that this one connected with you.
Susan,lifes unsolved problems put down on paper can release some of the pain. We know where we have been, and hope, will take us forward. You did a great job at expressing how you felt and how you still feel. May life send you many sweet memories from this day forward.
Thanks so much. You’re right that in the writing, we can let go so of what has been holding us back.
THE CHILD I WAS
Heartwarming. Definitely beautiful with tinge of sadness. I agree that writing heals our wounded hearts.
cufflinks for men
Re: THE CHILD I WAS
Thank you.
Your poem made me cry. I had a dad that loved me and did the best he could. My sons were adopted from the foster care system and even though we are a family, I think part of them still grieves every single day for the mom and dad that left them.
It’s a hurt that never quite goes away, no matter how much is right in the rest of your world. Kudos to you to making a family for your sons.
Oh, Susan. Such a powerful poem, especially those last lines. I think many of us have holes in our lives, so big and gaping that you can fall right into them and never get out. Brave you for exploring this one!
Thank you, Amy. Here’s hoping I can be brave for the rest of the month!
Wow! Very moving. Took me back to similar childhood questions.
Please don’t stop telling your stories. They’re fabulous and right-on.
Thank you so much. I love that icon of yours!
I think emotional honesty is its own kind of perfection. Thanks for a great start to an April filled with poetry!
Thank you, Mary Lee.
Siiighhhhhh
Thanks!
Powerful.
Thank you.
I love the way you embedded how you became a writer here. What a brave adventure you are on. I am looking forward to this month of poems very very much.
Thanks, Jeannine. I hope I can build up to going deeper as the month goes on. These are quick, one sitting poems, in no particular order so it will be interesting to see what develops over the month.
This is such a moving poem – very powerful.
Stella
Thank you.
THE CHILD I WAS
The child I was
I choose to forget
Most of the time
I was lonely and upset
I never used to smile
I cried through the night
and most of the day
My anger and demons
Never went away
As hard as I tried
Nobody noticed me
Nor did they care
They carried on with life
As if I wasn’t there
So I retreated into myself
I could not look at my mother
Her eyes seemed so sad
She blamed herself
For what I never had
It was not her fault
I never talked to my father
I had nothing to say
I always found it best
To stay out of his way
And so I did
My family as a whole
Never really connected
Especially me
I was never corrected
That is just how it was
The child I never was
Anne McKenna