She was my mother, yet she did not show it
She rejected me, from the very first day
I wanted her affection; she never returned it
She simply did not love me - she told me so herself
She said given the choice, she would have aborted
From the minute I was born, she declared her hate
When I was days old, she attempted to drown me
She hid me below water, like I was a mistake
If it wasn’t for my grandma; my tiny body struggling
There are no doubts today; I’m sure I would be dead
But heaven didn’t want me, the angels weren’t waiting
For the hand of God itself, held and kept me safe
So because she couldn't kill me; within a month, she left me
Discarded like old shoes damaged by the rain
Mother you can have her, for I do not want her
This is the dreadful woman; who solely gave me breath
But she was just the vessel and nothing more to me
The hatred that she showed me, I gave it in return
If she had been special, if she would have loved me
Maybe I’d be different, maybe I’d be saved
From the issue of resentment; I’d been more sensitive
When I learned leukemia has left her in a bed
That it raided her blood and to her bones was spreading
That she lays there in pain,’til in six months she’s dead
I was not made in love; her words are still ringing
In the memory of a child, not cherished on that day
But there was no remorse and there was no forgiveness
Just an empty void of the wall she built with hate
And yet today, more than thirty years later
I find myself wondering, if I should make amends
If I should repair, the link long ago broken
Restore the connection and tear down the fence
With many words unsaid, and the false pretenses
How do I accept, that she is not my friend?
She’s not even my mother but simply a stranger
Who gave me life once but wanted me dead
As I look in the mirror, I see her reflection
And touching my skin, it’s an extension of hers
For who I am and what I am was birthed from inside her
Though to this day she refuses to accept me as her own
Despite everything, there’s a corner of my heart
A place that is reserved especially for her
She may continue to loathe me, reject me; even hurt me
With her bitter words and denying my calls
But if I do not mend the bond that was broken
I am certain that her death will be my death after all
A large part of me will die and be buried in her grave
The sun will soon set and my love for her be lost
Priscilla's Story
copyright © 2009 by Ellie Kings
Note: spoken word piece
Art by Joe Hendry; 1st & 3rd painting
Art by Natalia Tejera; 2nd painting
