*You may reproduce these materials in online and email newsletters, as long as you provide proper attribution.*
Just e-mail to let me know, and send me a copy of the final newsletter.
I wrote these poems at 18 during my first semester of college, just after I was told I’d never be able to meet my birthmother because of Michigan’s laws at the time, but prior to learning that I was conceived in rape.
The second poem is a reply to the first.
~ Rebecca
“Option of Adoption”
Pregnant — unable to support,
not wanting to abort,
you chose the option
of adoption.
Do you long to see
your little baby?
She is mature and grown,
you wonder has she known
about you – the other
Father and Mother?
All that you went through,
she still has never sent you
a card on Mother’s Day.
But that is okay.
she was not being mean —
she only just turned eighteen.
Now will she try to find you?
Does she know it would not mind you?
You ask, “What does she look like?”
She was just a little tyke
the last time you saw her
crying in the arms of the lawyer.
You wonder, “What is her name?”
Oh, you feel such shame,
though you let her live too,
but does she forgive you?
You hope she understood
it was for her own good –
in her highest interest
to give her only the best.
Unable to ever recover,
you only know wish to tell her you love her.
“I Am Living and Forgiving”
I have waited eighteen years
and shed a thousand tears
growing up without you,
wondering about you.
Often I would tremble
with no one I resemble.
Do you have blonde hair, blue eyes?
If you saw me, would you recognize
that I was the tiny infant
with whom nine months you spent?
Do you really care for me?
Or would you just ignore me
because you are someone’s new wife
trying to forget a past life?
Is Daddy still around?
Or does he also need to be found?
I was told I’ve got a sister –
gosh, I’ve really missed her.
And what about my brother?
Does he know about the other
little sister he had?
Or ‘tis a secret for Mom and Dad.
A family from a storybook,
I imagine how you each may look.
I am welcomed with open arms.
You very kindly pour on the charms.
I accept you as you are –
you are the twinkle in my star!
But, my star, again, will not shine tonight.