A poem that reflects so many adoptees feelings.
Written by my friend Jennie.
Is it so wrong
To speak out
To SCREAM and SHOUT
Rant and rave
Or should we take this pain
To the grave?
Some say it’s just a stage
Something that comes
At a certain age
We can call it anger
But don’t ever call it rage!
Be grateful -
Life could have dealt
A much crueler hand
Better to join with the happy band
And give thanks
What happens then
To the feelings left within
How long shall we pretend
That we’re made of tin?
Always smiling, always happy
To be freed from sin
You are no expert
On our life
Have you lost your family?
Or borne our strife?
Why do you tell us
You hear our pain?
How can you say that
When our loss
Has been your gain?
Now there’s a truth
That’s rarely told
Bet that makes
Your blood run cold
We give you your status
Make you feel whole
Give you a title
Provide your role
It isn’t enough.
You demand more
And we must deliver
Though our hearts are sore
From the loss and grief
Never-ending pain
Real-life nightmares
Which bring you relief
The loss you once felt
Has now gone away
But your bitterness
Remains to this day
And we must pay
For the babies you wanted
But never could have
Why must our wounds
Provide your salve?
You clean us up, dress us up
Give us a new name . . .
Faith, Joy, Charity
Nothing of our identity
Is allowed to remain
That reality must die
To make way
For the cleaner, whiter version
One great, big lie
But our truth carries on
We keep it alive
This charade will soon end
For now, we survive
And when we speak out
When we SCREAM and SHOUT
We won’t hide our pain
No, we won’t feign
Gratitude and happiness
No more concealing
All of our distress
And what do you say
To these powerful words?
Will you call us ungrateful,
Miserable curs?
You who save children
Such angels, what saints!
Shelter yourselves
From such devilish taints
Spoken by those
Who weren’t heaven sent
Have you forgotten
Who we represent?
We are the past
Of the future you hold
What will you say
When THEIR stories
Are told?
Will you attack them,
Call them names?
When they speak out
Will they too be shamed?
No, not again
Not another generation
Stained by the sins
Of lies, secrecy and deceit
We lay that burden at your feet
And heed what we say:
Do not let their young souls
Suffer this way!
You say we’re ungrateful
This isn’t true
The only ingratitude lies within you
We give you our selves
And what do you do?
You tell us stories
Things you suppose
All kinds of fallacy
Of things you’ll never know.
Make-believe stories
Dreamed up in your heads
We cling to these visions
At night, in our beds.
How cruel, how unkind
To tell these tales
To distort young minds!
But you keep on pretending
Cherish the lies you keep
For this is what you need
To help you sleep
Never thinking that your stories
Cause us to weep
What honor does this bring
To the suffering we’ve felt
Can you call this respect
For the lives we’ve been dealt?
How have we been saved?
When it is your souls
Which are so depraved?
You build your stairway to heaven
On the backs of little children
And what of our origin?
The fiber of who we are
The essence of our identity?
What of our kin?
You tell us they are poor
Illiterate, simple, unclean
Dregs of society
Not fit to be seen.
Yet we exist
In their stead
And your hateful words
Echo in our heads
Fill our hearts
With self-loathing
And disgust
Is this respect?
No, this is unjust
You need us to worship you
And we, we are willing
But you won’t accept this
Without first killing
The beauty within
The tie that connects us
To the place you call sin
Angels in adoption
You need such acclaim?
Does these titles help you
Allay your shame
For delivering so little
And telling your lies
In spite of imploring
Innocent eyes
© Pushpa Duncklee and Pushpa’s Blog, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Pushpa Duncklee and Pushpa’s Blog with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
