If I could strangle that woman,
Hold her against a wall,
Inflict that pain I feel.
Still, it’s restrained within inside,
This motherless child.
The same, same,
Could be done to that,
The other… stand-in mother (Rat)
Craving to tell her what life is,
Tell her to stop the denial,
Cynical witch… drunken b****.
Still, it’s taken all in stride,
Yet rage burns in this girl,
This motherless child.
A burning hatred that taints,
Childhood memories.
This growing woman,
Defying by determination,
Their rotten worn paths,
Remembering thoughts,
Blocked out from a child’s mind,
An existence ago.
This motherless child…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Have you heard Paul Robeson singing the Negro spiritual 'Sometimes I feel like motherless child'? It is heart-stirring as is this poem. Two words - motherless child - epitomize abandonment. Your poem sounds personal - your rage is palpable - you may hide your tears but the reader feels your hurt and despair. Courageous bold penning. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥