180 Days

Rejected at birth

like the runt of a litter

but it was a solitary birth

No bonding

Never taken to breast

no lips to nips

never tasted Mother’s milk

I still wonder why

How does an hour-old child

earn ostracism from his mother?

An aunt

thirteen

asked to play house

Surrogate mother

six-month sentence

till alpha mom returns

to her senses

or heart leak is dammed

Child

finally gets a homecoming

It is hard to feel connected

when you’re rejected

the first half-year of life

The bond that was made

with the aunt in eighth-grade

is severed

Familiar touch is gone

The unfamiliar

at times abrupt

at times timid

Silence

is profitable

when left alone

Solitude

seems better

than uncomfortable bonding

No affection

no rejection

Child wisdom

or wishful thinking

It’s hard to be a sage

wearing throwaways

at the ripe old age

of 180 days

© JW Thomas

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18 thoughts on “180 Days

      • jwtatfbc February 29, 2016 / 4:02 am

        And even though other things went wrong that I told you about, we still ended on good terms later in life. It’s a lot better than holding onto hate, which does nobody any good.

        Liked by 1 person

      • jwtatfbc February 29, 2016 / 4:14 am

        Well, Pretty Lady, thank you for saying so.

        Liked by 1 person

    • jwtatfbc February 28, 2016 / 11:34 pm

      My heart goes out to you, if it was.

      Like

    • jwtatfbc February 28, 2016 / 11:36 pm

      Thank you for the response. Things that are true usually have the most effect on us.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Lady Quixote/Linda Lee February 29, 2016 / 2:16 am

        Yes. Things that are true do have the most powerful effect.

        My first clear memory in life is of a 6.9 earthquake in the northern California town where I was born. I was 19 months old, sleeping in my crib, when I was awakened by the shaking, the banging, the screams of “IT’S AN EARTHQUAKE!” coming through the walls from outside the apartment. Dishes are falling off the shelves, pictures are sliding down the walls, a lamp topples off a table and shatters on the floor.

        Through it all, I hear my teenage mother’s panicked voice in the next room and my teenage father, sounding just as fearful, trying to calm her. Through it all, no one comes into the bedroom to check on me, no one picks me up, no one holds me, no one comforts and protects me. I am left alone while the world rumbles and shakes and the adults scream and cry.

        This is why your poem gave me goose bumps.

        Many years ago when I was in nursing school, I assisted in a hospital birthing room as a young mother was in labor with her second child. She already had a son, she said. This one, she was sure, would be the little girl she had always wanted.

        As I cut the cord, the midwife told the mother that she had a perfect, healthy, beautiful baby boy. Then the mother’s face went hard and cold with anger. She turned her face to the wall and refused to hold or even look at her precious, perfect son. “I already have a boy,” she pouted. “I don’t need another one!”

        That beautiful little boy is a young man now. I have often thought of him over the years, wondering what kind of life he had, with a mother who did not want him.

        This, too, is why your poem gave me goose bumps.

        Liked by 1 person

      • jwtatfbc February 29, 2016 / 3:42 am

        Thank you for that. That is so similar to what occurred with me that it is uncanny. My older brother came 18 months before me, and my mom wanted a girl, as well. She would eventually get one in another relationship, and go through all kinds of trials and tribulations before coming back to God. And once she did we were able to reconcile before she passed.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Lady Quixote/Linda Lee February 29, 2016 / 4:40 am

        Oh… how wonderful that you were able to reconcile. I keep praying for that with my mother. She is in her 80s, I am in my 60s… she says she is a Christian, she goes to church, sings in the choir, beats people over the head with the Bible, etc etc, and still she lies, still she is verbally abusive, so the fruit is not there.

        My mother tried to gas us all to death when I was 12, among many other horrific traumas and abuses. So the evil, and the pain, runs very deep. But I KNOW that Christ is sufficient to redeem even this situation.

        Liked by 1 person

      • jwtatfbc February 29, 2016 / 4:46 am

        I found that forgiving her was just as beneficial for me. It released me from all that negative junk that I had carried around for decades (which tainted all I came in contacted with, and took some the joy out of life that I should have found and experienced earlier).

        Liked by 1 person

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