I knew they were blatant lies.
All the things they had told me
over the years;
I knew they were all untrue.
I knew my mother hadn’t abandonned me,
but I said nothing.
I knew she hadn’t left
in search for greener pastures,
a life far away from home.
And yes, I also knew who my true father was;
although they had tried to make me believe
I was the product of my mother’s
but said nothing.
I suffered and smiled
through the beatings,
One day, one day..
Their constant name-calling.
As a bastard many things were denied me:
“It is custom, you see.”
I smiled anyway,
remembering my mother words.
The sound of her voice had begun to fade.
It’s been twelve years
since I saw her,
felt her last.
It’s been all my life;
her words still resounding in my head,
I had made sure to recite them day and night;
she made me promise I would-
“It is the only thing that will keep you alive”-
moments before they dragged her away.
A mother away from her new-born child.
But her words have kept me
alive and sane.
The only words of love I ever received
who ho did not wish to take advantage of me.
in the midst of abusive relatives,
cousins that called me “maid”,
a sociaty that called me “bastard”,
an uncle that was my father,
and a life that seemed too much to bear,
Nothing made sense now,
surely, one day it would.
So for years,
and through daddy’s nighlty visits,
I ignored the pain
of his inhumane obsession with me,
and smiled anyway.
Mother had said I would be thus loved:
“You are loved and you are special.
You are fearfully and wonderfully made.
God’s work is always wonderful.
You must know that full well.
Even when it doesn’t look like it,
and especially when it makes no sense.”
Maybe one day it would..