
THE HOME
Stone-cold building, wrought-iron fenceAuthor: Lucille ©2002 All poems are protected & copyright ©
Home for unwed mothers, she was sent.
Frightened young girl, left there all alone
Not knowing why, had to leave her home. Nuns assigned dormitory, room for six
Many ethnic backgrounds, was surely a mix.
Single bed, linens, bedspread of ivory white
Two long, huge windows, to give them light. Antique armoire, wooden dresser, shared by all
Long, tattered drapes, for privacy, was installed.
Room was barren, no colorful pictures hung there
Large bold-face clock ticking, to look, to stare. Early morning, sound of bell, was this a dream
Waddling to the showers, crowded bathroom, steam.
Nothing was held sacred, no place to run and hide
Forced to overcome shyness, emotions deep inside. Given first-name basis, secrecy of our own
Never revealing to others, never mentioning home.
Assignments, homework, chores to work everyday
Part of the agreement, price they had to pay. Wash bucket, mops, polishing furniture, floors
Sterilizing toilets, sinks, showers, jobs deplored.
Dining room, meals served, puree, very bland
Chapel to beg forgiveness, they broke HIS command. Weekly visits, health clinic across the street
Vitamins, iron, weight watchers, swollen feet.
No place to go on weekends, no visitors to see
Longing for human touch, unborn baby and me. Painful memories of the home, that we all knew
Remainder full term, in pregnancy, we grew.
This is the last place, last time she would see
Baby she gave birth to, left behind, unwillingly.They told her in time, she would forget this pain
Never to look back, go on with life as it remains.
Sin she committed, given birth, hid the shame
Society of morals, double standard, self-proclaimed.

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