George St.
—–
I get up,
muddled dirt on my kneecaps
caked, with blood and stones
I pick myself up
just like before
staring at the wrought iron fence, beyond the brick wall,
Is there more to this than these cement squares?
Lined up in perfect unison.
Why were they that close to the wall?
I always wondered
Curious
I drive by that house now
A little girl standing there
Looking at the Hubba Bubba bubblegum
That pink container, broken on the ground
Nostalgia? I do not know. I am alone.
A used band aid stuck to pavement
It lost its purpose a long time ago.
She turns to me and says,
“Does she come back?”
I replied,
“No.”
Her figure faded.
Like a shadow over time,
I drove away
And yet I am still there.
—–
I was really touched by Anna McCormack’s poem Mother and wanted to shed light on those of us who don’t have loving mothers or a mother at all and how that affects us at an early age.
So, here’s a link on how a negative motherly experiences affect our childhood and growing up, but being aware of it can help prevent negative emotions going into those teenage years.
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From someone without a mother, cherish her while you still have her~
