What's it Like?

What Is It Like

I’m a rightfully accused self hating bitch,
mistreated, abused, neglected, recused, ignored and unwanted—
never wanted – since my birth – told by my mother,
I didn’t want another child I couldn’t afford to feed.

Years wasted – never understanding, a child forced to be adult
yet have a child’s mind
With no escape from who they were and who I was –
Unliked all around, fat, unattractive,
recall feeling happy when two girls approached me
alone in the school yard, said would you like to come to a lollipop party –
my mouth open to reply – surprised two popular girls would talk to me –,
scorn uniting their eyes upon me, they laughed loudly – storming away
yelling “sucker” I never knew what they meant or even what they said
because it made no sense to me – or should I say slow sense

Relieve me of my memories that intrude on my soul –
trail me, refusing to let go – the worst remain the longest

What is it like to be alone with many around
To have a mother so sick, so miserable she couldn’t care
Could not see aloneness
Told me I was unplanned for, unwanted
A dad so lost in his own mind he could not see me
except to know he helped create me

What is it like to have a life so blessed with sadness
a little kindness can comfort

Lord, what is it like to be lost in a sea of mankind
to take the road you wish you’d taken
What’s it like to have kindness and graciousness combined
Bestowed upon you for its own sake
To have someone care for you the way you wish you’d been cared for
What’s it like to know love, to be loved, to have that connection
you long for but never had
Where do you find it Lord. Is love found through prayer
And where is the soulmate I seek?

Dead Long Ago

All those people? Dead long ago. Most of `em anyway
They ate up all the lead, used so many drugs
Their bodies shot to shit, they’re all dead
Some’s left, see em once in a while
walking down the street,
Standing in the rain, trapped
Stuck on their methadone, loving it, not moving on

Heroin was good in the 60’s, plentiful and cheap,
My friends and acquaintances died from o.d.’s
Me? I never used it. Uhh ... O.K., I tried it once,
You know what they say about birds flock together
I flocked, beats me what for, but I did,
Truth is that flock was better n’ home
What? You want to know if I had a good home?

I thought that flock was better n’ home,
14 years old hanging with the addicts.
So sorry, at 14 it was alchies. Alcoholics.
Yeah, tried that too, didn’t like it none
Having babies for a black man, angry alcoholic
He became a junkie. I saw him not long ago

Asked him when I saw him,
“Why were you so mean?”
“Don’t know,” he said to me,
“Couldn’t hep myself, I guess.”
He tells me, “I’m HIV now, got a hernia so bad
my balls swoll up down to the floor.”
He was a god-damned strong man at 20.
I saw him press 250 pounds. Handsome too,

6 feet tall, 180 pounds, muscular, well built
He had lots of girls. Gave me gonorrhea 30 years ago.
30 years ago I told him about our baby
“Shoe box size,” he said when
I held my hands up to describe
“Coffee color with lots of cream,”
I said about the baby’s skin.
Dead 30 years ago.

In the middle of the night they came, 2 a.m. or so,
Said “Your baby’s gone, you can see him now you want.”
Gone, born 2 days and a half ago,
“You can see him now you want,”
the doctor’s hand resting on my shoulder

I birthed him glimpsing his coffee
colored skin with lots of cream,
They took him away,
never `lowed again another see
“His lungs were half formed,” they said,
“You can see him now you want.”

Begging for 2 days and a half, not allowed.
“You can see him now you want.”
“What for?” I said, “I wanted him alive.”
“Too bad. So sorry. You can see him now you want.
At least let us do an autopsy.
Save some other woman pain like you.”

So Sorry. Trapped in a time warp.
Childhood? What Childhood? Childhood what?
So sorry. Never, ever heard the word.
Can’t imagine what it means.


© 1993 Joy Leftow