Dear Loved One,
Struggling through the last few days, have been an infliction of what was, and what I knew would always be. If I could put a handle on time spent with you. Nice and complete. Red, steel and made for pouring nourishment over the land…I would.
But that image is not mine to hold.
It never has been.
As I walked upon the days of last…Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, etc. Watching my old dog…Get older. Watching the lilacs threaten to bloom and rescind. As I held my face up to the azure sky…There had been a facade looming above. Could there be death? Loss, grief, forsaken-ness…as the ‘normal’ people do?
I had already known the answer.
Obtusely, addicted to words. My role, as youngest child, had been parted out…long before I had any say. My being inducted into, abuse, verbal, emotional, etc…A script that was handed down from cradle to insanity to addiction to adulthood.
How does one move to closure? How do I manage the business of letting go…When acknowledgment never came? There is a wonderment in me…
Did this really happen?
Could someone I loved have allowed this to happen?
Can I be allotted disdain and resentment?
So many questions, and of course, now, no answers!
A letter to the gods, seemed the only plausible way! Your consideration of god! And, my belief of the powers that be!
Though there be riddles for the pain. There is no answer!
The only conclusion I can surmise, as I make a path of my own?
‘No one can drive me into oblivion, unless I hand them the wheel!’
Had it not been for stonewalls.
Where would I have hidden?
If not for the fragrant forest…
Would I not appear forgiven?
I write this as if,
no trespassing sign.
Yet, the reality of a sumptuous walk among…
the leaves and trees and other things…
Collides with an evergreen, tumultuous youth.
It is nearest…
And, begs me back to the woods.
Where I place the need to feel good…
To be, understood.
Every Abused Child