I was born in the nineteen fifties.
To a young couple struggling to find a way forward.
Children of the Blitz and of the colonies,
Of weathly antecedents and expectations to match.
I was born deformed
A foot pointing backwards
With a stillborn twin
Before, or after, I do not know.
My earliest memories
Pain and suffering
As a cruel metal caliper
Twisted my foot into place
The bones were malleable at that age
That was understood.
The mind is malleable at that age
That was not understood
After depression and pyschotherapy,
I knew what was not.
We live in times where some things are evident
And some are not
It's the curse of living
At any time.