This prose poem was first published in HumanKind Literary Journal. Years later, Stella’s voice resonates in Through the Yew Hedge, distilling the fog of adoption into a single image.
Haibun
Mirrors of Loss
I can talk about how my mother surrendered me. Although a newborn, I knew. It mattered. She held me for nine months and in her arms for a brief hello. When I learned Sarah was not my first mother, I asked, “Will you leave me, too?” I worried, “Who will take care of me?” I dreaded a final separation. Ultimate loss: loss of self. I must have caused this pain of separation. Unwanted. Unworthy. With no one person to see in the mirror — no likeness. When I found my birth mother, I felt the wow of reunion, recovery, and self-realization. My fears abated in the knowing; maybe her fears did, too. Lessened, never lost.
Haiku
A sheer scrim ripples
over a girl’s image —
waking to now.
Thank you for your support!
Beautifully written and deeply moving. You’ve articulated the profound, cellular impact of early separation so clearly here. That "sheer scrim" perfectly captures the delicate balance between the persistent ghost of the past and the reality of "waking to now." Also your line, :With no one person to see in the mirror — no likeness", perfectly captures the unique existential grief of adoption that is so rarely understood by outsiders....I was moved by this piece. Thank you for sharing such an evocative piece.