Ugly things

She said I wrote ugly things
But I didn't

I wrote what was going on
I wrote how I felt about it
And then I hid it
Little scraps of paper
Placed behind milk bottles
Inside statues
Behind pictures...

Often behind the monstrous picture of me
The one she had made
And had"doctored"
So I looked like what she wanted me to be
Instead of who I really was

Behind there I put my dark poetry
Not the kind words for Hallmark cards
Not the "You are such a wonderful mother"
Not the "I love you so much"

But the ones where I was being chased
The ones about how I was hiding
And some about how I gave in

Much, much later...
when I was a teacher
I found "ugly poetry"
on one of my students' desks

I read it...and understood it...
behind the obscenities and sexual suggestions
I heard the cry
And did something about it

A couple of years later
I saw the young girl in a movie theater
I just stood there
She saw me...and ran to me...and hugged my neck

She said, "I'm living with my grandmother now."
And she looked down at the carpet.
Then she looked up.
She hugged me again.
She said "Thank you."

Sometimes...we get lucky
Sometimes we don't

Cindy