Pink Crochet

by Maple Tree   Feb 8, 2018


She was born an innocent
with ivory cheeks, button nose,
draped in a pink, crochet blanket
with five little fingers and toes.

She wandered off as most girls do
when her father passed away,
blinded by where she came from
"I love you" was all she could say.

A mother is set aside often
when her child runs the streets,
snorting cocaine with violence
making money between the sheets.

I am and always will be a writer
mixing heartache with paper and ink,
a parent needs to reach out to a parent
when all you can do is think.

What could I have done differently?
where did I go wrong?
questions left unanswered
when your child feels they dont belong.

I can't begin to express my heart
with the bitterness and grief,
as my child is consumed by cancer
and her memories of being a thief.

I pen my daughters saga,
unashamed of what I write
its better to tell her story,
once a prostitute by night.

She's bald and thinning to the bone
her words are softly spoken,
but in her eyes I see the fear
as her heart remains torn, broken.

I tell her words she needs to hear
pat her sweet and loving face,
but darkness will always linger
and no mother can erase.

Her eyes are starting to hollow
her father watches nearby,
his spirit will always be near her
upon the day that she must die.

It kills my inner being
to speak of her leaving my side,
but to honor her beautiful memory
is something I can not hide.

She's more than her past mistakes to me
I see my girl flying by the moon,
she will become a pure soul again
taken away to soon.

8


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Latest Comments

  • 6 days ago

    by PnQ Mod Account

    I'm crying reading this. Heartbreaking. Thank you for sharing her story with us, past and present.

    -Jane

  • 6 days ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    This is the purest, most sincere piece, and I am so happy that you have shared her past and continue to keep her beautiful memory, story and voice alive through it all. I've never been a mother so I cannot possibly understand the amount of love and sacrifice you give. I can't comprehend it nor measure it nor define it. All I know is that it flows through Robyn now...

    I've often heard my own mother question herself and ask others if she could have done more. That broke my heart. It showed she cared and loved despite things that happened to me, whether my fault or not. She always wants my protection.

    What is most meaningful is that you have shared this, that you are not ashamed, that both you and Bird speak with power and inspiration. Because you are not afraid to speak about the pain, the hardship, the darkness. It can't always be light. But the people who support and get you through the darkness are those that matter the most.

    Love to you all, always <3

  • 1 week ago

    by mossgirl19

    Ms. Andrea, this is by far the most heart wrenching piece I have read from you about Robyn. This is so raw and it gives us her story and I feel so so sad that she is suffering this illness at a very young age. Your strength as a mother and your art as a poet both shine in this write.

  • 1 week ago

    by Poetess

    Although it breaks my heart to read this, thank you for sharing so much of you, Andrea.

  • 1 week ago

    by Ben Pickard

    Maple, a rare rhyming piece from you and one that works really well here. There is a melancholy melody provided by the rhythm and rhyme.
    Aside from the almost inconsequential technicalities of the piece (considering the subject matter) this is about as raw, honest and heartbreaking a piece of writing can be.

    Love to you as ever,

    Ben

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