Before you read the poem, I'd like you to know that this doll did exist! It lived on for the whole of my mother's life long after I had forgotten all about it. It was tucked into the guestroom bed alongside a teddy-bear she called 'Teddy Oliver'. I don't know why he had that name. I never asked her and she died in 1990. There are so many unanswered questions in my mind. Did my mother have no dolls as a little girl? I never had a teddy. Teddies were for boys, I was told. I never understood why I had a doll in the first place, seeing that dolls are a surrogate for the Bellinda type babies as in the poem, which look very much like real babies at birth, except that you don't go to dolls' hospitals with real babies. I also only had one, as was customary in the old days. My mother did not think I would have children so on reflection letting me have a doll was like putting ideas into my head. She disliked having children and had told everyone she did not want any, but then it came to pass... She must have been disappointed that I did not do exactly what she wanted: no marriage, no family, no nothing(?) I supposed the nothingness is inevitable of you live long enough. I always thought three score years and ten were plenty of life to have, but in fact I'm grateful for still being here, despite the arthritis etc.
The Secret
She had bright blue eyes in a hairless china head
Her patchwork body
was dressed in lace
Her soulless self
could not give love
But its childish
mother gave it devotion
One day Bellinda
fell onto the floor
and smashed her
china head
And the child saw
that the head was empty
and hid the doll
away and did not cry
Where is your doll
Is she hiding away
But the child
shook its head and would not tell
You will not be
punished
Tell us where your
doll went
But the child held
its tongue
Winter came and
the season of fires began
They found the
doll its secret place
Washed the soot
from its limbs
and bought a new
head
That is not my
doll
said the child
The hands and feet
and clothes
are all that are
left of her
Look at her new
eyes and lips
And golden hair
She is more
beautiful now than ever
And so she was to
their material eye
I do not want her
said the child in
despair
And wept for the
loss of a faithful friend
