And when roles are reversed
Things are so mixed up, so helter-skelter.
I was an old three year old
When her rape happened.
Listen to that: happened – as though
She happened to be late for the bus…
This night in 1981 she happened to leave
The kitchen window open and I happened
To wake up in the middle of it all
And she shushed me, she hushed me,
Go back to sleep as she walked back into
Her bedroom wrapped in nothing but a sheet,
In her room that would become her
Permanent wound.

When pieces are taken away, we have
Trouble putting other pieces together.
I was a piece too overwhelming.
I sensed this.
As we grew up, as she was returned
To me a few years later,
I helped her stand up, learn to walk,
Say the word “trust” again.
I raised her as she raised me
And I lived her fear as she lived
Her own, her trepidations,
Her protectiveness.

Some would even go as far as to say
That when I was in my twenties
They didn’t know who was the daughter
And who was the mother.

04/04/2006

Posted on 04/04/2006
Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky