a poem for my mother

“There’s a phrase, “the elephant in the living room”, which purports to describe what it’s like to live with a drug addict, an alcoholic, an abuser. People outside such relationships will sometimes ask, “How could you let such business go on for so many years? Didn’t you see the elephant in the living room?” And it’s so hard for anyone living in a more normal situation to understand the answer that comes closest to the truth; “I’m sorry, but it was there when I moved in. I didn’t know it was an elephant; I thought it was part of the furniture.” There comes an aha-moment for some folks – the lucky ones – when they suddenly recognize the difference.”   –  Stephen King

“To those who abuse: the sin is yours, the crime is yours, and the shame is yours. To those who protect the perpetrators: blaming the victims only masks the evil within, making you as guilty as those who abuse. Stand up for the innocent or go down with the rest.”   –  Flora Jessop

a poem for my mother

you say I don’t

remember you

on mother’s day

you tell your friends

i don’t know you exist

 *

but I know

and now I remember

how you took

my childhood

like those

 *

newborn kittens

stuffed into

a burlap sack

sides pulled up

tied tightly

with a fat length

of cord

 *

darkness –

anchored to

that large rock

tossed from the

end of the pier

into the Pacific Ocean

*

over

without a whimper

and you say I don’t remember

you on mother’s day

*

bisous,

léa

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