I am the birthright
mother, sister, daughter,
niece, ex-wife, and friend,
but never a granddaughter.
Did I know my father
the short Polish man
filled with anger and rage?
No, but for a summer
I knew his brothers.
I listened to stories of Ellis Island,
Hamtramck, Saturday polkas, and
stout beer washing down cabbage rolls
in a community center filled with laughter.
It is a legacy with a history
I would never be a part of.
For I was the illegitimate child
born out of wedlock
when it wasn’t fashionable.
But my mother was
made of stong stock
and a survivor of many wars
and cotton picking days--
where fathers labored as share croppers
never owning a thing
but fleeting freedom in their mind.
With eight brothers to war with
she left at age fifteen
leaving cotton fields
and fried okra behind.
She traveled alone by train
to the northwest where
she lived with relatives by marriage
and completed her dream
to finish high school.
No grandma for me
on either side,
just black and white glossies
of days gone by and
stern skinny men
with fat haggard women by their side.
My mother, escaping her prison
left her legacy far behind.
So who am I
this sojourner in life?
Is there no legacy for my children?
Seems it was destiny
that brought their father to me -
a man who left his legacy behind
as if they had died-
another fractured soul seeking relief
in obscurity.
Who am I? I ask.
And the answer is clear.
I am the one
who will help my children
build a legacy out of ashes-
lest our ashes drift with the wind
while our bones rot and are forgotten.
I am the one
though broken, a healer and
an intuit of silent pain, and secret agonies-
a friend to my children’s father and
a nurse and counselor to strangers.
I bequeath to them my hope.
Hopefully, my children will take
these fragile sticks of brokenness
and build a legacy of strength
not distorted by winds of adversity.
instead, may they build,
with their children
based on their birthright,
a legacy all their own.
Author notes
Always in search of the silver lining, and that is the legacy my mother left me. She is a beautiful and strong woman in her own right, thus I am my mother's daughter and pass that legacy on to my children.
A contest entry
- Women Only (prewites welcome) by Danna Hobart.
490 points, ended January 29, 15 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
-
This is suck a beautiful strong write. It is so full of amazing imagery and the emotion is incredible. Your mother sounds like a wonderful, strong woman, as do you.
-
stern skinny men
with fat haggard women by their side.
This reminds me of old photos of my grandpa and grandma.
I saved this one for last because I knew it was going to be good.
Thank you for entering my contest. -
-
Thank you!
Thank you so much for the honor of entering your contest, and for honorable mention. There were so many powerful writes and I learn from each of them. I'm looking forward to more of your contests.
-
-
Yes and it is not a bad thing either. Beautifully written.
-
You have instilled wonderful imagery inside this poem. I walked right with you as if I was you. It is a sad thing that happened to you, but we have to make our own silver lining at times. To seek hope, is the best thing we can do for ourselves. Though your mother gave you up, when it was not fashionable, ( love that line), she did what she felt she had to do for her own life. Now, it is your turn to do what you feel you need to for YOUR OWN life. I am enjoying your poetry and the realness of it all. I also feel the pain in it too. Keep penning your heart for it makes beautiful poetry.
-
-
Thank You
Thank you so much for your comment. I think I may need to take a closer look at how I communicated my birth. My mother did not give me up, but instead (which is not in the poem) left my dad when I was 4 yrs old, when it wasn't fashionable to leave a man. He beat her, and they were never married, hence my illegitimate status. I don't remember him at all except when I met him later in life as an adult with kids of my own. Maybe I need to look at the flow of this. I appreciate your comment because it makes me look at this in a different light. My mother raised me and my disabled brother on waitress wages.. She is an awesome woman, though a little tough around the edges
, but that's because she had to be.
Thank you so much for you wonderful comment. Jo
-
-
This is a beautiful poem.. Please take it, frame it and place in a safe place for your children, to help them build that legacy on.. They have an exceptional mother and grandmother..
-
-
Thank you so much
I am most humbled by your comment, thank you so much! There is something about survivors who choose to make life better instead of being bitter.. and that is only part of the legacy I want to leave my children, but it is a key factor in how to live within the beauty that life has to offer. I so appreciate your gracious compliment.
-
-
AMEN!
Somewhere, sometime, someone must stand up to end a legacy of defeat and change it to a legacy of winners. That somewhere, sometime, someone is YOU. You might not see it, but when your children look back upon your life, THEY WILL SEE YOU: the weaver of their realized dreams, the spinner of their yarns. . . of the finest silk.
This is incredibly good writing. The visuals, emotions. . . everything are exquisite. So, who needs a grandmother? Only your grandchildren. THIS is a winner
Luv & hugs, BonnieQ
-
-
WOW
I am so touched by your comment! I have a big smile on my face. You are so right, someone has to stop the legacy of defeat in our family, and my mother was the first, and my survival skills I learned from her. I have had a dream to write since I was girl, and only now have I been able to unleash the pent up dream within myself. Your analysis of my writing blesses me so much since I am such a novice and have so much to learn about form, poetic imagery etc, etc. A friend recommend I come to this site and I never knew there was so much to learn! Luv and hugs back to you sweet sister! ... Jo
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 10 of 10
