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It is not too often that I think about you, but when I do…

So empty they have been; The darkness is very unsettling. Your eyes appear like black holes; What is this unstable phenomenon?

On one hand, I am angry at what seemed to be inevitable without proper intervention. On the other, I want to protect even the smallest amount of innocence that may remain in you.

What is needed to try and recover the hope left in you? At times even I have hope. Yes, I have hope for you. How much would change if we further assessed what has led to this? Would you even feel safe enough to process this?

I did not know what to do and we were unfortunately never taught how to embrace with grace, protect each other or forgive like our peers. The guilt may continue to weigh on my heart for a little while longer as I think back to those adverse childhood experiences.

Those rebellions now seem more like they were cries for help more than attention and I wished I could have been more receptive to you. But I too was a lost child that longed to be seen. A helpless witness, why did fear seem to mute my screams?

How could I have been more of the keeper that you needed? How could I have known and done better even though processing my own pain felt like it was running on E?

I love you and I continue to pray that one day we will both find peace and heal from these memories.

Posted in demons, family, mental, poetry, questions, relationships

Reading It Backwards

How does one be a keeper of a home still filled with the aftershock of it all?

Why is there utter stiffness in one’s reaction to witnessing the beginning of what could be the end?

Where does one turn to when they are drowning in the fear of escalation?

When can one process the essence of safety when their innocence of childhood is fading in front of them?

What possesses a person to illuminate that devil-like presence in front of others?

Who is to blame for that lack of anticipation?