1954-55

 March 9, 2003

When I wake up on Mother’s Day

My heart sinks as if to say

This is not a day to celebrate

The passion inside only feels like hate.

What did she do from whose womb I climbed?

Locking my hands with a rope to bind

She did not stomp upon my head,

Nor circled light around my bed.

Someone inside still loves her so,

But the others have taken too much of a blow

Her heart was cold, she would not change

And the girl child “we” began to arrange.

The grave she laid all covered with dirt

One of us died so the others don’t hurt

The others hid so they couldn’t be found

But one gave in and laid there bound.

Bound with no sound nor comfort to feel

The girl child’s will they wanted to steal

Wearing brown, the dirt conceals

And many lights later we started to heal.

To Mother’s Day, hip hip hooray

All stand around and silently say

You gave us life then took it away

And one poor child, in earth, does she stay.

Mothers, graves and pansies don’t mix

And hurting the child to get her kicks

Now the children hide with one left behind

One small soul saved the others, no mind.

Small sacrifice, young soul gives all

She goes away so the others don’t fall

Happy Mother’s Day, we hope you liked this gift

We still search, and through the dirt we sift.

Written by insiders Patricia, Beth, Jack, Tony, and others

for Mother’s Day 1954-55