Imagine him saying ‘mama’ and fat fists reaching out,
his stumbling steps, rushing through school gates
‘muum’ child’s voice lifting clear of the chorus –
calling to you. Where is he?
Who is kissing it better? Are they proud?
Scan queues at the amusements,
faces in the papers.
You’d know him: you could tell.
Imagine her not caring, hating getting caught,
turning to the wall by the maternity bed
as ‘we chose you’ parents lifted you into their family.
Imagine her leaving, lighter, returning empty
to another life – other babies –
to a future free of you. Imagine her forgetting.
(Written in response to Nicola Sturgeon’s apology this week to the people affected by forced adoption, and the other UK governments that have not apologised.)