Discord and disconnect
The disassociation I feel
Whenever I attempt to connect
Childhood trauma
(Sigh)
We’ve all been there
My childhood trauma I’ll attempt to share

I was held for 40 weeks within my mother’s womb
Created a bond… placenta, blood, breath…
So safe…
So safe within that room

A bond that was severed, held for a moment
A distant whispered name
Tracey… she called me
Now….
Tracey’s not my name 

The midwives let her hold me
She wept tears I’m sure I suckled
I smelt her and I knew her
And for us
Well time adjusted 

Held within that moment
Held within that kiss
Held within her teardrops
Forever lost
Abyss 

Policy and government
Our black skin sings a game
Policy adjustment
Assimilation is its name…

Crying for my mother
Crying for her teat
Crying for her scent
Despairing of nuns so neat

Held prison to the cots
The wooden bars
Carnation milk
Held prison to the sweetness
Of hospital grade fresh smelling sheets

I can cry myself to sleep I know
It’s all I’ve ever known
I know how to fall asleep
Love from my Mother never shown

Don’t get me wrong
I had a chance
For white parents to pinch my cheeks
Don’t get me wrong
I had a chance
To walk on ‘easy streets’

Endless opportunities
Like getting fingered in my bed
By my creeping, sneaking ‘brother’
The monster in my head

I’ve had an education
I smile and talk real sweet
I know how to make nice
I know how to make my house real neat
I know how to please the master
And make him feel real good
I know how to make him comfortable
While cooking casserole in Kenwood

I feel the disconnect
The disassociation from child hood trauma
I know the contrived relationships
That continues ever after

I strive to reconnect
To make my life complete
I feel I’m ever lost…
Searching…
For something…
Life’s lost mother
True defeat…