One of the three divisions of the psyche in psychoanalytic theory

One of the three divisions of the psyche in psychoanalytic theory

A Poem by h d e rushin
"

(for those who thought that life was fair at all.)

"

what if,

out of shame of having a baby who's father is unknown to you.

And out of fear of telling your folks,

your Dad, ex military, who has an iron knee

and thinks the osteopath  a  communist;

who flies a flag on Columbus day

and marches full uniform in

veterans parades. So out of the

greatest pain and terror, you leave

it somewhere safe. At the firehouse

door or on the stairs of the parish.

And homeless people come by

thinking it's a bag of food or a bundle

of shoes. But the authorities

find out that it was you who had

given birth all along. A little girl

with the same wry smile as yours,

who splayed her fingers suddenly

as you did. But all the time you've

stayed up nights without eating or

sleeping just thinking what had happened,

what you've done. Is she safe?

Is she in the loving arms of someone kind?

So you have a change of heart and decide

today to be a mother. But now you

have to petition the court where an old man

decides if your fit enough to care or unfit not to.

But not for one f****n second

did you ever stop.

© 2015 h d e rushin


Author's Note

h d e rushin
30 poems in 5 days

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Featured Review

There is a delicacy to this, that makes it all the more powerful.

I cannot begin to imagine the pain a mother would go through under such circumstances. As a single mum, I am fortunate, in that I am surrounded by loving family and friends, and thus well insulated, (though not insular.) I know there can be reasons; just as I also know that for a mother to stop caring is a biological impossibility, no matter the face shown to the rest of, the world.

A moving poem, that touched me deeply.


Beccy.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Reading your emotions is exercise for the mind, you're like a personal trainer for souls.. Thanks for sharing your deepest thoughts, for heartbeats that escape the shallows of life are anchors for the weak.. You're amazing!!

Posted 10 Years Ago


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LJW
I was adopted.
As was my non-blood related brother.

I belonged to no one. Ever.

Posted 10 Years Ago


Bad things happen to good people
we all get to make mistakes
That marine sounds like a decent stand up guy to me
he gave a knee protecting you from the horror
of communism, what a brave man

Posted 10 Years Ago


There but for the grace of circumstance... as for stopping, as you say, not for one second. T



Posted 10 Years Ago


elegance thy name is Dana . . . your voice makes every day better

Posted 10 Years Ago


This was... pardon my french...was a swift kick in the arse.
Powerful work and I could only hope for this to be performed
on a stage someday. Thank you for giving her a voice.

Posted 10 Years Ago


The guilt comes with the turf, whether you have the secondary spot of honor on the birth certificate or no, and you don't stop for one f****n's econd, whether you're fifteen or eighty-five. If you can pull off thirty pieces of this quality in five days...wait, of course you can.

Posted 10 Years Ago


There is a delicacy to this, that makes it all the more powerful.

I cannot begin to imagine the pain a mother would go through under such circumstances. As a single mum, I am fortunate, in that I am surrounded by loving family and friends, and thus well insulated, (though not insular.) I know there can be reasons; just as I also know that for a mother to stop caring is a biological impossibility, no matter the face shown to the rest of, the world.

A moving poem, that touched me deeply.


Beccy.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Nice poem. Speculative and delicious. I enjoyed every second of this.

Posted 10 Years Ago


a mother's love is that strong---it ends up overriding feelings of guilt, or fear or responsibility....we just feel what we need to do...
no questions asked...just answered to the judge, who is actually not just the old man, but our own conscience and love for what is part of us.


Posted 10 Years Ago



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Added on February 7, 2015
Last Updated on February 7, 2015

Author

h d e rushin
h d e rushin

detroit, MI



About
black american poet living in detroit. more..