Lifes journey hasn’t been an easy flow,
Doomed from the start.
Doomed unwanted baby girl,
Born into a cruel world .
Today mother has gone far away,
She dosen’t see her baby any more.
The baby is asleep but soon she awakes,
She cries for her mother and her heart breaks.
Where are you mother? I can’t see you,
I so want to be with you.
I long for you mother my soul pines away,
I cry for you every day.
My heart is broken and I’m so traumatized,
The longing for my mother never dies.
I wrote this poem when I was around 14 years old as my mother had stopped writing to me. My grandmother aways told me that I woke up soon after my mother had left for England, she said that I had looked for my mother for almost six weeks after my mother left home. My hair had fallen out and I had stoped talking, the docter told my grand mother that I was simply pining for my mother.
It even became very difficult seeing the union castle ships sail in without a letter from my mum. I had become so use to her sending me a letter. These letters always helped to ease the pain from the abuse that was dished out to me.
Now all I had was abuse at home, at school and those dreadful evil boys who would drag young girls through the flex bushes to sexually abuse them. Sometimes I am so distrought I want to tell their names but then I think about thir innocent families but then no body thought about me when I was young and innocent and very vulnerable.
One of the abusers knew That I was very young and I was in the same class as his sister. People say move on but it is hard to move away from sexual abuse. It stays with you and niggles away at you. It affects your life so much that some times it is so real. When my grandmother died I went to live in Jamestown with the salvation army, Captain Harding and his wife Ann. I was so happy living with them and Jamestown was quite well lit at night.
It was absolutely wonderful to walk around without young men dragging me into the bushes. Out at Deadwood where I used to live, I wasn’t the only young girl to be treated as though we were no more then a piece of meat. They knew that they could get away with it as their wasn’t any one to report abuse to in those days.
Children were seen and not heard, corporal punish in schools didn’t help as it was imposible to tell your teacher that you were being abused when they were canning you, so you just got on with it and prayed to god that you didn’t get pragnant.