Hidden in shame, lies are told
about us, by us.
Gratitude for sacrifice slams the door.
Our motherhoods removed
they think, they wish.
Behind the door our hearts beat, our arms empty, we wait.
Our children grow, we search and find.
Sometimes good, sometimes sad
but still we sit.......
Huddled together, a group outside.
The mainstream flows, comforted in their easy belief.
We push against the current hoping to get through.
Again the door slams shut.
Again we lean a little harder.
A small wave of light escapes from beneath.
Our stories are read.
Replies come fast and furious to put us in our place.
"just because you had a bad experience" they said.
Behind the door the words get larger.
Through mothers in exile silent voices heard.