A poem for my mother

“(Child abuse) is something that’s not talked about. It’s the dirty little secret. There is the immediate damage, but there is also the damage that it does down the road. It’s the baggage that you carry. It’s not here and today, it’s tomorrow.”
~ Melody Strong


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


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 –

Fastened to

That large rock

Tossed from the

End of the pier

Into the

Pacific Ocean


Without a whimper

And you say

I don’t remember

You on

Mother’s Day




Author: Léa

A wanderer who has found home and herself in the South of France.

37 thoughts on “A poem for my mother”

  1. Truth-telling hurts those who do not understand (lucky them!) and those who do not want to know. But it must be told, in hope of healing and better days. Thank you, Lea. You have told it poignantly and well.

    1. Thank you Cynthia. Unfortunately, the abusers seldom take responsibility for their actions. Those who survive often must find our own way into healing. Léa

      1. I definitely agree Lea.
        We have a lot in common, only my abuser was my stepfather.
        We are strong.
        We are survivors.
        God gave us a voice to speak out… and I’m glad you are writing your poetry!

      2. Ah Christina, it is a very large club out there and one nobody asked for. If you read through the posts there were others and as we know, abuse can take other forms. My voice was crushed for ever so long but it came back stronger. Thank you for following one of my blogs and your kind words. Dancing is not only beautiful but a very creative way of expressing ones self. It is something I never had the opportunity to learn. Thank you, Léa

    1. Thank you again for all your support. Hemingway said so much when he said “just sit at the keyboard and bleed.”



    1. Thanks for understanding Kath. Yes, it was my reality but also for so very many that I worked with while working in Child Protection or with other agencies over the years. Writing it can be a catharsis for myself but sharing it has let others know that it was not just them. I know so because they frequently have told me and continue to do so.

  2. that really pierced my heart… i adore your bravery and strength and skillz to write about such a difficult theme so personally

    1. You are too generous Claudia. As Hemingway said: “There is nothing to writing. You just sit at the typewriter and bleed.” Thank you but bravery had nothing to do with it. It was survival.

  3. This is such a piercing poem, Léa – you express so much with so little which makes it even more powerful. It´s a very rare skill, and I admire it so much. As hard as it must be: Keep writing about it, it does not only help you but others as well, I feel. xoxo

    1. Yes, you are right Sarah. Writing is very cathartic. It seems with each of this type poem I find another person or two who have similar issues and questions. As my degrees are in Psychology, I am always happy to listen. 🙂 xoxo

      1. I can imagine it is – cathartic, I mean. It´s similar with painting/drawing etc.
        Luckily my own issues and problems are not related to that field of experience, but I appreciate your offer to listen very much, Léa!! 🙂 xoxo

      2. I’ve always got an ear… two in fact! 😉 I’ve been told I’m a born listener and perhaps there is some truth to that. I sure hate talking though! I’m here if you want to chat and perhaps you have my email Sarah? 🙂 xoxo

  4. A strong yet poignant poem, Léa – you’ve dealt with it extraordinarily well and have said that your work helped. x

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