Tina Blackledge

Open your eyes to the light
tiny babe.
Open your eyes to the wonder
of humanity.

A wail of protest signals her arrival
into a world full of possibilities.

Tears of Joy fill the room.
The babe is placed in her
mother’s arms.

Three days she took
to make this
journey into

Her tender
cheeks colored crimson
as the bond was set between
parent and child. Both relieved to
see their newest daughter.

“What took you so long,
little one?” a weary
mothered asked. Tears
streaming freely.

Nearly five years
go by as quickly as
a hummingbird’s flight.

The night calm is shattered
by the child’s wails.
The mother and father are by
her side in an instant.

What is the danger? They
cannot see a threat but the
child wails.  Skin hot to the
touch. Tears flow all around.

Test after test. Doctor after doctor.
Month after month.
“Your Daughter…is ill.
She will only get worse.
Be assured, it will not kill
her. No, she will live…
but a life different it will be.”
a physician proclaims.

Each word, a dagger to
the parent’s heart.
Two more daughters at home.
The father’s income uncertain.
The mother’s health
is failing.

Three years more.
The sickness is invisible to
most. The daughter lives her
life between chronic flares, bronchitis,
pneumonia, and near constant fever.
The mother is ill. The daughters are sent
to family many times
to be given protection and care.

The grandmother alone, would
accept the sick daughter, for all others
held fear. The child had barely seen eight
years pass when two of her uncles, whose
bedroom she shared, taught her
another kind of pain.

Trust was destroyed.
Innocence stolen.
Her body burned crimson as
she learned to silence
pain and own shame.

A secret set by lies
and blame. “God thinks you
are filthy because of what you did here.
If you tell, everyone will know what
a bad girl you have been and they
will not love you anymore. No one
wants you around now and if anyone
finds out this secret then
not even Grandma will let you
come here. Mommy and Daddy will not
love you, they won’t even be able
to look at you again because
they will know how dirty you are. God
saw what you did and he is angry at you.
So, if you tell or if you do not
do exactly what I say then everyone
will know what a dirty little
whore you are because
you let boys touch you.”

The sick daughter
began to pray anyway,
“Please God,
please take me away.
Please, just let me die.”

School taught her.
She was fat. She was ugly.
She was stupid. She was poor.
She was worthless.
Her heart turned to stone.
“If you hate me so much, just strike me
dead!” The girl prayed as anger
consumed her.

Six years expire.
Parents have allowed hate
to divide the family.
Mother and daughters alone,
hiding from
darkness only father can bring.
The mother is ill.

Surviving, barely.
The secret revealed
the family divides. The uncle’s words
proven true. Her heart is dead.

Two daughters marry
finding too late that a hasty
escape would bring profound

The mother and daughter have
long ago switched roles. The daughter
takes all the right steps to success but
security is never found.

God hates her, she believes.
She tires of waiting for him
so she tries to escape her sentence
of lifelong suffering.
Her attempts
are thwarted and her rage

Cast back into poverty. Discarded
as refuse, once again.
A choice she must make, live or die.
Her attempts have wounded her family.
She cannot bear to see them in pain.
A promise she makes to her
loved ones, herself, and to God.
She will not take her life
but prays in earnest that God
will give meaning to this woe begotten existence.

The mother worsens until the
daughter can no longer offer
care so they are
separated for the first
time in thirty-four years.
Guilt and release, is
profoundly felt.

The daughter is caring now from afar.
Given the freedom to
live her life.
Her body has been used up.
She tries even harder.
Beginning a new career
hopes are held high.

Her spirit to survive will not allow
injustices to live so into the
mainstream she fits not.

Her body is failing,
mobility is a decision.
She resigns herself to just
surviving and
writing something of
worth to leave behind.

A change, unexpected.
God has something more planned.
He never hated her,
he was never angry with her
and now he showing her
how very much he loves her.
God uses another
to melt the cold dead heart that
ceased to beat so many decades before.

She wasn’t looking.
In fact, she pushed it away for decades.
No man could she love.
No man would she allow to love her.
Her heart was closed off forever.
Imagine, her wonder.
Imagine her awe.
Imagine her delight.
God gifted her love from the purest of hearts
and the purest of men.
All those years of suffering,
all those years of pain melted into nothingness,
as she was lavished with unconditional love.
Not only was she gifted this man’s love
but now she knew beyond
any doubt that God loved her.
He never wanted her to suffer.
He never wanted her to feel pain,
for only he could have helped this man
sneak past the walls she had constructed.
Only God could have melted her heart.

God   loved   her.

God loved her
and that, she found,
is all she ever needed.
She is going to live.
She is living.



5 thoughts on “Living

    • It is my life… but it has indeed come to a glorious climax. Two Undeserving people gifted with a love so pure it created the spark where healing begins.. It has turned a story of hopeless desperation into the personification of paradise on Earth. This wonderful man and I have are eagerly traveling upon an uncharted path full of surprise and excitement. In fact, the misery in the beginning makes the discovery of selfless love that much sweeter. I am glad you liked the writing. 🙂


Leave a thought or two and I will surely get back to you!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s