by Hans Senfuma
Byron from California wrote: I was born in a home for unwed mothers. When I was born many years ago, they had many of these “homes” where people would send their teenage daughters if they became pregnant. They would spend several months there, then give birth, and then go back home where the family would create a story for the reason the daughter was gone for a few months. I don’t share that story online and keep my life fairly private.
In the quiet corners of memory’s attic,
Where secrets nestle like forgotten letters,
Lies a chapter unwritten, veiled in whispers,
A tale of beginnings, clandestine and tender.
You, born in shadows, a clandestine bloom,
a haven for secrets, where walls held secrets too,
The home for unwed mothers, a refuge of grace,
Where life’s clandestine dance found its sacred space.
Teenage daughters, their futures uncertain,
Their bellies swollen with secrets unspoken,
They sought solace in those sheltering walls,
Where time flowed differently, like a hushed lullaby.
And you, a silent witness to their whispered hopes,
The heartbeat of resilience echoing through the halls,
Your arrival, a clandestine miracle, a quiet rebellion,
Against a world that judged, yet cradled you in its arms.
The seasons turned, and you emerged into light,
A son of secrets, wrapped in mystery’s shroud,
Your mother’s eyes, perhaps, traced your features,
As she whispered her love, her tears unspoken.
Back home, they spun tales, threads of deception,
A cousin visiting, an aunt’s mysterious absence,
The family wove a tapestry of half-truths,
Shielding you, their clandestine treasure.
And so, you grew, a keeper of secrets,
Your heart a locked chest, memories sealed,
The unwritten chapter etched on your skin,
A silent testament to resilience and love.
Now, as you navigate the digital labyrinth,
Where oversharing is currency, and vulnerability a trend,
You guard your clandestine past, a sacred relic,
A whispered promise to the boy you once were.
For in the quietude of privacy, you find strength,
And the unwritten chapter remains yours alone,
A tapestry of courage, woven with threads of silence,
A testament to the power of hidden stories.
So, dear friend, embrace your private sanctuary,
Where the unwritten whispers find their refuge,
And know that in your quietude, you are not alone,
For we all carry clandestine chapters within our souls.
Comments