I came
poor of birth
I was born blue
into childhood
of a childhood
cut from my parents’
impulses
gifted second-hand
a copy of
a 163rd reprinting
Baby and Child Care
a gift
of new and old
it was a time
when
being conceived
out of marriage
being born
was the end
not a beginning
pregnant
without
a driver’s license
no where
to go
but give up
get out
get thee to a nunnery
don’t show me
your face
I disown you
be gone
with you
I’m so disappointed
with you
an embarrassment
a gift
of being
a gift
of choosing
a gift
of deciding
a gift
of me
a gift
of her
a gift of us
three
it was difficult
not being
wanted
it took
adulthood
and lots of it
to understand
the true gift
of being
chosen.
∞
Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo).
Today’s prompt: Day Twenty-Nine: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem in which you muse on the gifts you received at birth — whether they are actual presents, like a teddy bear, or talents – like a good singing voice – or circumstances – like a kind older brother, as well as a “curse” you’ve lived with (your grandmother’s insistence on giving you a new and completely creepy porcelain doll for every birthday, a bad singing voice, etc.). I hope you find this to be an inspiring avenue for poetic and self-exploration.”
30 Poems in 30 Days
All text and photography © Dale Schierbeck
…. more of my original Poetry on EatsWritesShoots here.
Beautifully done, Dale. It is a gift to be chosen (as it was to have to give you away – hard as it is to understand).
Thank you, Dale. I appreciate your words, always. It is definitely a nuance and difference that takes an older soul, I think … as we move past the concepts of entitlement to appreciating the strength that comes with the smallest or largest of gestures brought with ‘choice.’
Yes. I believe so.
Thank you Elizabeth. That means a lot. Truly.
So dear and well written!