Before I was a piece of paper, where did I begin?
Falsified birth extract entry number 22694
'A' class fit for adoption
From a mother that gave birth and travelled alone
Transferring her bloodline to a matronly cap into the unknown.
A fertility charm for those that couldn't have one of their own,
The fable is told that I smiled from my cot to select my future home
A deed foretelling one's own fate,
Perhaps from wind or loneliness,
A journey of trust and confusion begins.
Such is the destiny of my own choosing, the duality of self
No similarities apparent, always standing out
Not dark, pale and timid but blonde, brown and adventurous,
Rootless rebellion, the good-bad adoptee
A psychological vagrant seeking another self.
Nameless seeds and eggs, mere anonymous donations
Adoption, donor insemination or surrogacy
Nurturing in utero, ancestral knowledge betrayed,
The iron curtain descends, a bogus identity created
From the rich to the gay, Madonna to Elton John.
Best the child doesn't know cut off from the past
Little clean slates to be modelled in an image
Commissioned for another's dreams,
But beneath the surface secrets lie lurking
Neonate awareness lingering, sensing, pondering, wondering.
Growing up without a face to reflect upon
The little smirk, the longing green eyes, the curl upon the lips
No gazing up into the reflections of genetic resemblance,
Those intangible signs from which to decide
That one is family, owned or disowned.
Stories have been told from the beginning of time and stories will continue to be told till the end of time. Every life has a story and these stories inspire and encourage others on life's' journey. It is not how we start the journey that counts, but how we finish it.
Country of Origin