We have received poetry from survivors, and have put them online for others to view
They say your job isn’t worth a dime
That I’ll say is a serious crime
Who was there when I cut my teeth
Crawled around and played with my feet
Picked me up and gave me cuddles
Oh this world is full of muddles
Without you Mother where would we be
You gave us love and laughter all free
You taught us all we need to know
Without you Mother where would we go
No one to guide us through up’s and downs
No one to share laughter and frowns
A Mother’s job is beyond measure
My Mother is my greatest treasure
Don’t put her down as pounds and pence
This would cause a grave offence
Mother you’re worth a million to me
I’ll never be able to pay your fee.
Author’s name withheld as requested – submitted November 2018
An Orphan Child – 1948-1964
I was that lost orphan child, which I did not want to be.
I was that lost child, who lived in an environment were other children feared to go, and as a child did what others failed to do.
As a child I asked nothing from those who gave me nothing; and painfully accepted the thought of eternal loneliness, should I fail.
As an orphan child I experienced and seen the face of terror, I felt and experienced the stinging cold of fear.
As a child I never enjoyed or knew the sweet taste of a mother’s love.
As a child I have cried, pained and hoped, but most of all, I have lived times others would say were best forgotten.
But with total trust in the Lord, at least someday, going forward with a new confidence in myself as a good person, and having spoken to and for the first time in my 67 years of life been treated with the greatest honour and help and dignity by all the understanding men and women of Caranua, I will be proud to say I am an Irishman.
They speak of love
Some people that I know,
They say its great to be in love,
To have no cares,
This game called life
Is good, so full of joy,
I wouldn’t know,
I’ve never been in love.
Not for a single moment,
In the tramp of years,
Have I felt needed,
Or wanted, or loved,
Not since the early days,
When in an orphanage I grew,
A miserable, unwanted child
And in the passing years,
I knew that life would not be sweet,
I knew then, as I know now
Of those battles that defeat.
For who can there be loved,
If love’s not given
And who can come from cradle unto youth,
With love unheard of, in the daily life
And who from these arrangements,
Can there come, equipped to love,
To share in joy and riches,
Tell me Monsieur,
Tell me who?