Childhood Terrors

By the age of three

I grew up not knowing who my father was

It was a well kept secret that only my mother loved

A well kept secret that my sister often voiced

A well kept secret that only my mother would rejoice

Maybe so she could keep me all to herself

For I did not look like my father

So it is was easier for her to love someone else

But for my sister

Tension grew between the two

For she resembled that man

And for that reason only she often received the back of our mother’s right hand

They did not get along in my childhood

Too much pride and shame

I wonder if they ever will

I pray they do

In Jesus’ Holy name.