Poems From The Kitchen Table

for Echoes of a Role I Chose
By Valentina DuPont

---

They tell fairy tales about wicked stepmothers,
but they never tell the stories of the women who tried.

The ones who entered halfway through,
too young, too foreign, too “other,”
with no script but their heart in their hands.
Not to replace,
not to erase,
just to love.

They don’t speak of the women
who fell in love with a man and got his history,
his silence,
his children,
two souls who didn’t choose her,
but were taught to question her.

No one tells you
that a 21-year-old might walk into a family
and be misjudged for a divorce she didn’t cause.
That she might carry the weight
of a fractured home she never lived in.

No one mentions
that children are often pulled by adults
like rope in a quiet war—
manipulated in ways they don’t yet understand,
for the comfort, protection, or pride
of the ones who say they love them most.

They don’t talk about
how hard it is to remain open in the face of suspicion,
to show up in love
and be treated like a stranger.

She still remains in therapy
to understand what was never hers to fix,
to untangle the traumas
and the wounds left unspoken.

She offered closeness,
even when doors stayed shut.
She reached for connection,
and stood steady in the silence.
She mothered by presence,
not expectation.
And she learned to grieve
what never bloomed—without shame.

Some nights,
the ache wore the mask of indifference.
The door opened—
and no one said her name.
The love she gave was quiet,
not missing.
Misjudged, not undone.

So she learned:
when love is returned with absence,
distance is not cruelty—
it is protection.
It is clarity.
It is survival.

And still,
she made dinner.
Cheered at games.
Held space for their stories.
Tried to mean “home.”

This is not a fairy tale.
This is a role chosen in love,
shaped by sorrow,
and carried with quiet, sacred courage.

---

This poem is not a lament. It is a mirror held up to a role I did not inherit but chose. A reflection on the strength it takes to stand in love, even when it’s unreturned and to walk away when necessary, not out of defeat, but out of self respect. To all who have mothered quietly, bravely, and imperfectly—this is for you.

---

Copyright © 2025 Valentina DuPont. All rights reserved.