Who Is Maggie Little? by Andrew Scott

Who Is Maggie Little? by Andrew Scott

Prologue – The Funeral

I am standing here beside the casket
that everyone is crying at.
Am unsure why there are tears
as I am a real stranger to them.

This fine burial box was given
by a generous mystery person.
A different stranger paid
for the burial plot and headstone.
So giving, all of them,
to a homeless person
they have never met.

Sadly, I look out
to all in this congregation
and wish they knew this
spirit so much better.
The one they did not know
before death took my body.

Wish I could tell
all of the crying eyes
what my story is
so they understand me.

Part I – Born Into A Traveling Family

I was born into my family
in the early 1950’s
to a minister and his wife
that already had three older boys.

I never felt close to them.
Maybe the brother close to me
was the one born
before me in the bloodline
but I just could not
grow towards any of them.

My father was always stand-offish
and my mother followed his lead.
Maybe I expected more from them
that I never got from them.

From the time that I can remember
our father had us traveling
all over this small world.
From the center of Canada
to poor stateside islands.

Spreading the word
of a higher power
as we were sent place to place.
Wherever the church pointed,
we picked up and went.

As a family, we never planted roots.
Taking our family caravan
to anywhere but a true home.
The longest being a small island
that was so far way
from the rest of our family.
It never felt that we had one truly.

Part II – Scattered Brain

I was young when
I started feeling not normal.
My thinking was so confused.
I would see things
that others would not.
Everyone saw it in me.

My family did not know
how to treat me
when I acted different
and my brain confused me.

I could not control it
and never knew the trigger.
It hit like a wave.

My father told me
it was the work of Satan
taking over my body
because I did not believe.

In his eyes I was cursed
and had to go
before my impurity spread.

Part III – Hospital On The Hill

My father shipped me back to Canada
to live with my aunt
in a Hamilton town.
Another person that did not understand.

It just gave me more confusion.
I could not figure out
why I was so unwanted.

The teenage years
made everything harder to control.
What emotions came from where?
Was it part of the growing
or confusion in my mind?

When it was too much
for my father’s sister
I was sent to the Ontario Hospital
to learn to heal everything.

The walls were so frightening
with the voices of the unwell
and the ones that had been there before.

Doctors tested me over and over,
filling me with pills
that were ever-changing
until they decided what was wrong.

Schizophrenia is what they said
was making me confused
in my thoughts or what I saw.
I had no idea if they were right.

When pills were not working
and the thoughts or images
were playing all through my mind
they took me and put wires on my head
to straighten my thoughts out.
The pain was intense
every time electricity was sent through.

The therapy never worked.
When I was of age
I was let out of this dungeon
into the real world
while I was still asked to report to them.

Part IV – It Is A Boy

In the free world
I had no place, no job
and no money or direction.

On one of the check-ins
to get my control pills
I found out that
I was expecting a child
much to the horror of the doctors.

They decided adoption
was the only route
because I could not
take care of myself
in my state of mind.

They kept me back
in the dungeon
until it was time
to bring another life.

The child was a boy
that they never let me hold.
Taken away as soon as
the cord was cut.
I never saw him again.

Half-healed, I left,
heart broken and angry,
and never looked back.

Part V – The Streets

The Streets of Hamilton
was now my home
and would be
for over twenty years.

I never had money.
Survived with small welfare
while I used a friend’s address.

Shelters and food banks
were my home.
Free was always the best.

Walker by’s would not
give this beggar money
because I screamed and scared them
when my mind played with me.

Every month out here
aged me a full year.
The elements that were in my skin
had turned it grey and wrinkled
before its time.

Maybe that is why when I fell
and collapsed in a sub shop
no one noticed right away
and when they did
the ambulance took an hour
to come and save me.

People around me
thought I was too ugly
to be saved and they were right.
My breath could not be saved.

Epilogue – Looking Out

Now seeing all the faces
I am overwhelmed.
Always thought of the hardness
that people gave me.

I did not think anyone cared
until now even though it is too late.

April 16, 2015
© Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2015

 

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Bio: Andrew Scott is a native of Fredericton, NB. During his time as an active poet, Andrew Scott has taken the time to speak in front of a classrooms, judge poetry competitions as well as be published worldwide in such publications as The Art of Being Human, Battered Shadows and The Broken Ones. His books, Snake With A Flower, The Phoenix Has Risen, The Path, The Storm Is Coming and Through My Eyes are available now

 

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