Embrace is my
effort to describe the most overtly spiritual experience I've ever had…
~Editor's TRIGGER ALERT: This entry contains allusions to childhood sexual abuse~
This experience surrounds my relationship with my mother, which was
a very challenging one for me most of
my life.
Growing up I was subjected to much abuse. The nighttime abuse
began when I was very young and continued for many years. Each night, I
remember calling out to my mother from my bed, telling her I was afraid and
couldn’t go to sleep. Each night she lay down beside me until I was
calmer, and then she rose and left.
As an adult I wrestled endlessly with the most obvious and painful
of questions: Why had my mother never
probed into the reasons for my bedtime terrors and frequent nightmares?
Did she really not know what was happening, or at some dark, unconscious level
did she choose not to know?
My mother’s blindness tortured me as much as the cruel hands of my
abuser. How could she love me and
not rescue me?
I know the subject of child abuse is a tough one, but it is so
prevalent and damaging in our society. One reason I started writing about
my experiences was to give a voice to those who are still afraid to speak out.
I was one of them for most of my life. It was not until I reached
my sixties that my outrage overcame my fears.
I still have no definite answers regarding my mother, but I suspect
her own childhood secrets kept her from responding to mine.
My brave, petite mother fought cancer for over a decade. She
finally succumbed in a nursing home near her California apartment. When I
went to say goodbye, I had an extraordinary experience, which I try to capture
in this poem.
It was an experience that removed any doubt of my mother’s
love for me, and left me believing that all my questions would be answered in
God’s own time.
There is no doubt in my mind that the experience came from
outside myself.
Embrace
The
phone rang at six a.m.,
too
early by far.
It would be several more days at least,
her doctor had assured me.
The
nurse’s voice was matter of fact--
sorry
to tell you
a
peaceful end
come say
your goodbyes,
her
voice softened.
I
drove my rental car
over
broad, tree-lined boulevards.
The
nursing home sat unassuming
just
as it had the day before.
Heart rushing, stumbling,
I entered her room;
she lay stiff and anonymous
on plastic sheets.
Only an
empty husk,
I thought,
my mother’s
not in there.
I
sank onto
the
wooden bench next to her bed,
my
vision blurred by unspilt tears.
Out
of the blur, all unexpected, her joyful face
flared
above me. She was smiling
radiance, beaming delight! Her eyes,
illuminated
by love and mysteries revealed, moved
closer–– as when she bent to embrace
me
as a child. She held me for a
moment in those eyes, smiling, smiling,
and
then she was gone.
From
the hallway I heard
the
soft chime
of
an elevator opening.
~
Margaret Vidale returned to her childhood love of writing poetry when she retired from teaching in 2001. Growing up, reading and writing poetry were ways of escaping severe child abuse. Many of her early adults poems were efforts to break the silence she carried for most of her life. Writing those poems was healing and liberating, which enabled Margaret to branch out into a wider range of subjects. She feels fortunate and grateful that some of her work has appeared In Pearl, Solstice, Sol-Lit, The Whirlwind Review, Avocet, The Caribbean Writer, Still Crazy and other small press publications.
~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~
Comments
Post a Comment