She never looked at me or spoke my name.
I wondered if my very existence caused her pain.
She told me that she wasn’t meant to be a mother,
So I thought that I might’ve been the child of another.
Maybe I was born to someone who adored me,
Instead of this woman who seemed to abhor me.
And the delivery fairies in a playful moment,
Substituted me, not truly meaning to foment
Unhappiness and pain for the people involved,
As being a changeling leaves trouble to be resolved.
I know that this silly idea is my way of coping,
But you can’t blame a woman for hoping
That somewhere in this whole wide world
Is a loving mother seeking her beloved girl.
Written for Day 2 of the OctPoWriMo 2019 Challenge of 31 poems in 31 days. The prompt today is Changeling, a child believed to have been secretly substituted by fairies for the parents’ real child.
Leave a Reply