It wasn’t long after the contact with my sister that I began to really wonder where my birth mother’s heart was in all of this. I still hadn’t heard anything from her, no relatives said anything about how she felt, and I just didn’t keep asking.
For awhile, I was content with the relationships I was building with my biological grandfather, biological uncle, and both my biological brother and sister.
But eventually it did get to me. Eventually, it made it worse talking to them, because the more they talked, the more things I wanted to know about her. The problem was that they couldn’t answer what I needed, and they did the best they could.
My sister was just a child, and she was still in a selfish stage, where we all visit when we are in middle school. My biological brother had some scarring about issues he faced as a child, not necessarily brought on in any way by my biological mother. But he blamed her none the less.
So I guess what was happening is that they were trying to build relationships with me, when I wanted more to do with my biological mother. It was wonderful having my siblings, but there was something else I needed.
Finally, I approached my brother with it. I asked him what our mother’s take was on all this. It was only about a month after the first contact with him. He said he wasn’t sure and he’d find out.
It was difficult to wait and wonder. But finally the phone call came. And my dream was shattered in an instant. He explained that she did not want contact with me. She did not want to be found. She certainly wanted no contact with her biological father and that if I was in contact with him, then they should all quit talking to me, etc.
I was confused, angry and hurt. I felt abandoned for a second time. I felt lonely, scared and as if my whole identity was gone.
It was an instant. And I felt like I had gotten nowhere.
That night, after everyone went to bed at my house, I wrote the following poem:
“Never Be Safe”
So, you think you are safe – –
wrapping yourself
in your cold hard robes of steel.
Protecting your soul from a fire,
deep, hot, flaming red.
Sheltering your mind from
a probing finger,
picking away at each
dismal piece,
like a puzzle,
needing to be whole.
So you think you are safe,
from the evil that
melts away the core,
like a candle melting wax,
hot, burning.
Hiding in darkness,
covered by thick fog,
melting over your world,
like a deep black
puddle of tar,
taking you deeper,
until your last breath,
suffocates you,
making you realize,
you will never be safe.
Copyright © 1999 Imagination Station
Copyright © 2003 Scribbles N Scraps
….and then I closed my eyes and accepted that my dream had been shattered. It was over there, or so I thought….
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