Creative Corner: Poetry by Ritual Abuse Survivors	Ritual Abuse, Ritual Crime and Healing

 

To My First-Born

For one moment out of time I was
Simply a child holding a miracle
Overwhelmed with love and wonder
At your tiny beating life in my hands.

>From my body: pain, terror -- and you,
Covered with blood, struggling to breathe,
Your life called from mysterious Elsewhere,
Too small to fill my trembling cupped hands.

Then your life fled whence it came, leaving me
A complex mother daughter sister child
Huddled silent in a far dark corner
Too young to cry for any of us.

• Sonia, 1996

 

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