- [Narrator] My mother was the blue wisteria.

My mother was the mossy stream out behind the house.

My mother, alas, alas, did not always love her life.

Heavier than iron it was as she carried it in her arms from room to room.

Oh, unforgettable.

I bury her in a box in the Earth and turn away.

- It was a very dark and broken house that I came from.

I escaped it barely.

That was my strength, but I wasn't all strength.

- My father was a demon of frustrated dreams, was a breaker of trust, was a poor, thin boy with bad luck.

He followed God, there being no one else he could talk to.

He swaggered before God, there being no one else who would listen.

Listen, this was his life.

I bury it in the Earth.

I sweep the closets.

I leave the house.

- When she was 17, she left that house and she hid out in the woods for a week.

- [Narrator] I mention them now.

I will not mention them again.

It is not lack of love nor lack of sorrow, but the iron thing they carried, I will not carry.

I give them one, two, three, four, the kiss of courtesy, of sweet thanks, of anger, of good luck in the deep Earth.

May they sleep well.

May they soften.

But I will not give them the kiss of complicity.

I will not give them the responsibility for my life.

- Forget it.

Set it down.

Walk on.

It's an amazing poem.

You think that's being written at a time and a culture when there was so much emphasis on investigating childhood abuse, on the kinds of traumas that might have shaped us.

And Mary is saying, "You don't need it.

Bury them and leave."