I am weighted down
full of the abuse gone by,
the memories invade me
a stream of visits,
a turnstile of arriving,
never-ceasing
past remembering of that
which sank me lower to lower 
my bed to carry my frame…
imprinted upon it.
for I was no form
rather a mold.
shaped to serve their sinful choices.
there was no me there,
only survival
I was strong for I had to be to survive…
I was indifferent in an attempt to convince myself that it didn’t matter.
I was anger and sorrow intertwined,
filled up of others sin
that I…
boiled over…
with wrath at the injustice.
I screamed out, in all the wrong ways.
for I was not heard, not seen, a no one to them.
an object to be forced down,
every part of me ground up.
I hated their faces full of leering and wanting and taking always
I went to my can…
with joy.
telling myself that if I curl up tight,
I can make-believe I am be within a womb
I can pretend tomorrow will be new’
that I am in the womb and will be reborn.
but, it never worked
I was still trash to her, 
and his toy.
each day a horror I lived
so I became anger at night
indifference by day
i survived, I did
but now I am weighted with the memories
seeing me,
seeing them.
they are like lead drowning me in my slumber,
crashing into my dreams…
waking me.
that I must pull myself from this lostness…
this fog…
find me.
then I can be full of truth instead.
I resist the urge to go to where peace is,
to curl up outside, safe…
to be waken in love and gentleness,
to be found this time,
wanted and soothed.
I am going now, instead, to sit and be in Heaven awhile
Momma Mary is smiling at me,
she knows and is whispering, “Come.”
she will wrap herself around my nakedness
Abba will stand guard.
I can go home now…
to them
home.
it feels as somewhere I have never been,
that now I am.
and oh, how, precious beyond precious, it is.
elsewherebygrace 