A poem dealing with an emotional state in childhood. |
Traces of bitterness Life that has not been sweet, Growing up in disgrace and defeat. Waking up wet, every morning in terror, Waiting for the inevitable To end my panicking state. Here come the footsteps As she calls out my name, Can’t seem to shake off This feeling of shame. Wishing I were someone else Hating myself for doing it again, Can’t seem to wake up Why me? Why this cup? So deep in sleep I lay Dreams of skeletons they portray, That this old house is not innocent Something is here with malice presence. Teased at school each day Never getting rid of the stench it plays, Not just my body, but also my soul Not living, only surviving, still unwhole. Then came the day that it all had passed I put behind me those days in the past. Remembering this experience of shame, Trying not to lay the blame. It was not a case of laziness But deep sleep and emotional darkness. Years later I had to ask her Why? Did it not occur? To you that I was troubled? Needing help, not pummelled With my children, I understood this problem I never laid a beating upon them People need to be educated More sympathetic, and tolerated Children are our legacy Help them to grow up fairly With every opportunity With pride, love and dignity. © Catharine Minter-Parks 2004 |