full of the abuse gone by,
the memories invade me
a stream of visits,
a turnstile of arriving,
past remembering of that
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,
I was strong for I had to be to survive…
I was anger and sorrow intertwined,
filled up of others sin
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
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
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
they are like lead drowning me in my slumber,
crashing into my dreams…
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
she knows and is whispering, “Come.”
she will wrap herself around my nakedness
Abba will stand guard.
I can go home now…
it feels as somewhere I have never been,
that now I am.
and oh, how, precious beyond precious, it is.