A poem, never sent, from a mother to a child whom she was forced to surrender:
My heart is like a symphony
That sings of only pain.
Of all that makes a life worthwhile,
Only you remain.
Only in the thought of you
Safe and cared for well
Can I find happiness within
My self-inflicted hell.
Only in my love for you
Is there sufficient grace
For me to want to live at all
In this forsaken place.
Ah, God! Were life not beautiful
And love not full of light,
I could, perhaps, embrace the rage
Of an embittered night.
But as it is, I cannot help
But hope for what might be:
That though I gave you up, you might
Someday, somehow love me.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Audio and Video Music: E Minor Prelude. By Frederic Chopin.
Music free to use at YouTube.