By Ken Blue

We were poor as red dirt in the Ozark hills.

So each year we went east to the cotton fields.

I say we, doesn’t mean that I was born yet.

But, as you read my poem; the point you will get.

 

Mother was single, and met a handsome man.

It took several years, but now I understand.

With sorrow and regret for that foolish day,

Much of her life was plagued with the scarlet “A.”

 

She loved and cared for me, yet I never knew,

All the work and the shame she must have gone through.

About age ten, I ask of my unknown dad.

You see, you never miss what you never had.

 

She made up a story; my father had died.

I never ask again, I was satisfied.

But this was not the truth; truth, she must conceal.

Her fear was all for me, and how I would feel.

 

Many years would pass, but thoughts came now and then.

Were there other siblings who would be my kin?

But, through circumstances, which I’ll not explain.

I discovered the whole truth, and his full name.

 

With help of others, the mystery was made known.

Father’s gravestone was found, and the sibling’s home.

A few phone calls, explaining what had come to be.

The truth became evident for all to see.

 

So, we planned a reunion in Walnut Ridge town.

At Catfish café, we went in, and sat down.

It was a sight, as we talked to each other.

I met two of my sisters, and a brother.

 

There’s much more to this story, you’ll never know.

To tell it all would take a volume or so.

I leave you to read between the lines yourself.

Until then, we’ll keep the rest upon the shelf.

 

I’m glad my mother’s secret has been made known.

I discovered her love, and care for her own.

There are unwanted children, but none unplanned.

God has a purpose, and it’s all in His hand.