Identity...
my reflection stares back and tells nothing
no secrets revealed,
The things it seems I should know,
the suffered anguish,
a memory of almost...
my mother's hair...
the eyes of my father
seen but not remembered,
I am an echo of the past,
a moment in time between two people,
an embrace,
held for all time,
in all that is left,
me.....
~Victoria Santiago~
The mirror,
tells me of people that I do not know,
two faces combined to make one,
a secret denial, tears,
the burial of a life not dead
papers, signed for the court
a baby, folded into the arms of others
of love gained and not lost
~Victoria Santiago~
Social Workers
liars all
voice untruths,
write lies,
deceive me,
create tragedy,
I give birth to children that are not whole,
sickly, deformed, brought forth without their health history,
my health history,
denied me
for the sake of privacy
~Victoria Santiago~
Stolen from the children
the pieces of their soul,
New parents for the children,
came and brought them home.
The parents of the children
created life, then turned away,
given unto others,
that came to take their place.
The children of the parents
created in shame and sin,
went on in life with out them
and were born again.
Identities were hidden,
concealed from all, and then,
the children of the parents,
asked questions, the search began.
Who am I? Asked the child
When and where did I begin?
Who were the ones that gave me up
and were never seen again?
I want to know the answers to these
questions on my mind,
Do I have the right to ask these things?
I want to seek, and find.
Did they love me? Asked the child,
Did they give me up and then,
never think about me later,
or take me back again?
Stop asking, all these questions
you don't ever need to know!
Who you are, and where you came from
is the county's right to know!
These things that you are asking,
are hidden and sealed away,
for 99 years from the day you're born
they'll always stay that way!
You ungrateful, terrible ingrate,
you want to find your blood,
this has all been hidden from you
all done for your own good!
Adoption, it is written,
is a bastard's place to be
the shame of my conception,
is a hidden reality,
Stolen from the children
are the pieces of their soul,
they're kept hidden from the people,
that need them to be whole.
~Victoria Santiago~
Adoption
What was the truth and what was illusion?
After 38 years had flown by; I finally arrived at my conclusion.
Like a video on full speed, the years had slipped past.
The little girl, now a woman had grown up too fast.
I knew then that no Doctor could cure my ill.
No more sessions exploring my past not even a pill.
There was a void that loomed like a dark cloud over my head.
It needed to be filled, to stop that tossing and turning in bed.
So, after so many years of pondering, I set out to search for my roots.
Where would my journey take me? I hoped that the point wouldn't be moot.
This woman who gave birth to me, who could she be?
Was she bright, was she funny, would she look just like me?
Now, what if I really was able to find this lady called "birth mother?"
Would she want to talk to me, would we have anything in common with eachother?
The emotions that one goes through, while engaging in such a search.
Can only be described as a rollercoaster ride that stops and goes with a lurch.
Although a grown woman and a mother of two,
How could I possibly tell them what I wanted to do?
Would it hurt them to know, my parents so dear?
The knowledge that this cloud still hung over my head year after year.
Alas, I decided to tell them of my intention
From that point on, nothing was mentioned.
So without their blessing, I set out on my quest.
My only regret was that they hadn't wished me the best.
I set out on my journey, with my head held up high.
I hated to hide it from them, but had no choice but to lie.
Months past, many others gave me their support.
Each obstacle a frustration, my patience ran short.
After what seemed to be an eternity of what had become an obsession.
My dear friend phoned me that cold winter day and told me how to wrap up my mission.
At last, I had found her. My heart was elated, yet still apprehensive.
The situation was fragile as walking on eggs, I must be quite pensive.
What if her family had no idea that I existed?
I couldn't just call her, her number unlisted.
Some said to phone her and just say, "It's me. I am okay."
I simply couldn't do that, it wasn't my way.
So, I sat down pen in hand to write her a letter.
Whatever shall I say, I didn't want to offend her.
I waited and waited for a response to my letter.
Ten days later, the phone rang, my heart felt much better.
"Shabbat Shalom," she said. She definitely was Jewish.
Now it sure beats me how a Jew winds up in St. Louis.
Oh my goodness, she's into theatre and long lazy days at the sea.
As it seems my dear Judi, is a beach bum like me.
She sprechen the Deutsche, the Hebrew and Yiddish.
Moi, je parle Francais and hablo Espanol, but I do a mean Kiddish.
Now this is just all too strange, I must share this confession.
Judi and my folks are in the same profession.
They all lived in Philly and Baltimore too.
This is too bizarre, to really be true.
Hey, what kind of car do you drive? Another mere coincidence?
Aha, the Japanese have taken over the industry so a Honda does make sense.
A tad on the rebellious side, Judi was like me.
I suppose that the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
Although it took so long to finally achieve what I had hoped.
I couldn't be more pleased with the final result.
For you see, in every adoptee, there is fantasy and fear.
What if my birth family turns out to be weird?
Modern technology can be regarded as an invasion.
For me, it has helped to solve this equation.
If not for technology, I would never have found my birth mother
We would have continued on, never knowing one another.
The friendship that we share is a rare and precious find.
Not to be taken for granted, not forgotten nor left behind.
Now that I've found Judi, I am eternally grateful.
And my belief in God shall remain forever faithful.
~Myra~
(This poem was written 26 years ago by a birth mom who was 17 at the time.)
I Want Her Back. She is Mine.
The pain.....the grief.....
Lord, please give me relief
I know I was young but this is not right.....
I begged, I pleaded, I tried to fight
Oh God they stole my baby!!
I held her so close, I gave her a name
But they took her away
shame on you all.....shame, shame, shame
God, how can you allow such a crime?
I want her back Lord.....She is mine!
Why did you allow them to take her away?
Because I was young.....now I have to pay?
They signed the papers, they gave me no choice....
since I was young I had no voice.
This was not my wish...this is not what I wanted.
Now I will forever be haunted.
I want her back Lord....she's mine!
A piece of my heart was ripped away....
I will never be the same...what more can I say
The agony...the hurt....uncontrollably tears...
this unbearable pain will continue years
What an act of betrayal......
by my family and you...
sentenced to pain for a lifetime....
I want her back Lord, she is mine!
What did I do to deserve this?
They say I will forget her...what a crock of s--t
They took her away Lord....I'm p----d at the world
She's mine dear God...she's my little girl.
There is no justice...this is not fair.....
they stole her from me....vanished into thin air
Now I'm destined to grow old...
without my beloved child to hold
This precious soul that I loved so dear...
she's gone somewhere....she belonged with me here
I hurt, I cry, I wish I could die
I want her back Lord....she's mine!
~Debbie~
Stuck
I'm gonna tell you something, about me, about my life
about my kids, about the way I've tried to do what's right,
we all had something stolen from our sense of our well being,
and the bull---t that's responsible for our unhappy scene,
the parents that conceived me, were just a one night stand,
and the genes that they imparted, were the worst ones you could have,
I have three kids with birth defects, all three of them are sick,
and the records that I need to have are sealed, and it's s--t
I was adopted by some folks that really are just great,
and they loved me, and they shaped me, and they saved me from my fate,
of living in a life of hell my brother had to live
they just don't have the records that I need to help my kids
My birthmom was a real drunk, and in the first degree,
she abused the two she kept, I'm glad it wasn't me
but she would never give to me the name of my birthdad,
and the genes that I inherited, from both are really bad,
My kids have been afflicted by a bunch of various s--t,
from chromosome deficiencies, attention deficit, growth disorders, blindness,
and some other ugly stuff,
that's too personal too mention here, and telling it is rough,
My kids have all been poked and prodded, much more than they should,
and the doctors don't know where to start exactly, if they could,
it would save a lot of hassle, and my kids a lot of pain,
if Hennepin, would answer me, and let me have that name
These papers that were signed and sealed, when they changed my name,
regard me as a MINOR, even though I'm legal age,
on paper, I'm just 6 months old and there I will remain,
until the laws are overturned, it really is a shame.
I guess that I just want to say that when you go to vote,
that you remember what closed records do, and who they hurt the most,
and the system of adoption, should never be allowed,
to give the right of privacy, and screw the ones involved,
~Victoria Santiago~
