I’m not going to get into the Friday the 13th stuff today. Instead, here’s a poem I wrote when I learned that a 15-year-old girl in the family was pregnant. To think that child would be nineteen now is freaky. What I really wonder is if she continued the “family tradition.”


© W. Scott Grant
March 15, 1998 6:45 pm

Mother, I understand now how hard it was for you
Seventeen is such a young age to have a baby
You couldn’t wait until graduation, college and marriage
Despite the advice of church, friends, or family.

I remember waiting in the charity line, humiliated
And how you lied about the identity of my father
You had to protect him, he couldn’t support us
That’s where I learned right from wrong, mother.

And when you planted the seed of dark suspicion
Any older man in authority, family or otherwise
Why would he want the attention of a little girl?
They can’t be trusted – you could tell by their eyes.

Then you married the drunk you swore you could change
He was my daddy, I just had to learn to love him
But change he did not – he had what he wanted
A warm place to sleep, food, sex, and a victim.

You taught me sacrifice – how passion ruined your life
You denied your childhood for mine – committed ever-after
Now I’m sixteen, and I’ve learned so much from you
Today I give you a gift… your new granddaughter.

2 thoughts on “Mother

  1. Heart wrenching, Scott, but this line really summed it up, packed a punch: “You denied your childhood for mine – committed ever-after.” How at the tender age of 16, your worldview has expanded enough to steer away from yourself and see the situation from your mom’s viewpoint. Nicely done. 🙂


  2. The girl this poem is about never read this. Her reaction at the time would not have been positive. Since I haven’t spoken to her since Brenda’s funeral (and that encounter wasn’t amicable – she had just given birth to her 3rd child two days prior, and she was still a teenager) I have no idea how she’d see this now.


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