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A Pillar of Salt

Remember Me Kindly

in the face of God

he killed me

my voice

 

he laughed

in the face of God

 

my silence

a void

of laughter

once filled

with brightness

 

a voice

I once called

my own.

 

mute

broken body

 

he sees

he creates

me

this disfigured

soul

filled with anger

hate

 

my father cries

to me

his hurt

at my terror-stricken

eyes

 

he just wanted a hug

to comfort

to protect

 

yet

I became

an animal

striking out

with cold words

to any man

I saw

or heard.

 

Never mind if they

were kind

 

I

simply saw

them

for

Man

 

Man

became

him

 

he who beat me

down

 

he who choked me

out

 

he who shut me

up

 

he laughed

in the face of God

 

who proved to be

useless

 

if God exists

I cried

I want no part in

it

 

If God exists

I admitted

I hate

it

 

If God

then I’d rather

not

 

God

I prayed

if you’re there

if you’re listening

Fuck you

I hate you

 

God

if I could

if you were real

I would like

to kill you

 

I cried

in the face of God

 

fury

hate

they won the day

 

he won

as he had killed

me

and thus

killed

God

 

he laughed

in the face of God

 

he may have killed

me

 

destroyed

me

 

but

 

I am not so easy

to erase

 

laughing still

in the face of God

 

he stands

a beautiful woman

next to him

holding a child

 

and I realize

how much

of a monster

I’ve become

 

so I start

to write it out

 

try to let go

 

and God

 

if you exist

if you’re real

 

Fuck you

 

I

don’t know

 

But one day

I’ll laugh

too.

Come Home Again, One Day When I Am Gone

You don’t remember or pretend not to. I play along as I love you. But it hurts. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally.

Let me confess to you. Let me shout it down. Let the world know.

I am the scars of yours. I am the knife. I am the blood. The bleeding.

Sometimes I wonder if it will ever stop. Sometimes I realize it will not.

Must I go away? Far away? (Like the boy with the baseball cap left me. Like Lise & KK walked away.) Must I leave? I want to give you peace.

Peace you will probably never feel as long as I am here to prick at your subconscious memories that left or were blocked out long ago.

I need to remind myself to breathe. But then I look. Fall back down. Can I say RUN? No. It’s too late.

Little girl, I’ll keep running back to you. Attempting to. Smile. Broken. Let me hug you. Let me speak. Let me listen.

Don’t go. But no one ever listened.

The call. The flight. I open the door. Beige trench coat on (my soul). Silver chain on. Boy with the baseball cap. He’s there. RUN.

I open my mouth. No sound. MUTE. Broken body. I will forever wonder. RUN. SCREAM. But most of all. Don’t break.

I am not sure if I did.

one step

one step closer

one

one

one?

seems still

so far

mother

i walked

without you

i promised

i would

never learn

life without

but

but

but?

here

i am

breathing

still

moving

sleeping

even if

not dreaming

still

life…

it went on.

even

no matter

i thought

it should

not.

fly away birdie

And maybe they

Those nightmares
Nightmare Men
Will they ever get their due?
And my little bird
My boy with the baseball cap
He must have loved you so so
He helped you

My cinder baby
You escaped
And I never knew you

Your name

Your eyes
They tore you away
But I still love you
I sometimes fear
Whenever I remember you
I will always run sobbing shrieking

Tear me apart
Take it

Tear it out
This heart
What use is it anyway?
No one ever stayed
You should be happy

You should smile
You probably already do
You don’t need me
I wish you did

poison

What’s wrong?

 

my face

mine

hers

 

“suck it up”

“get over it”

 

but this wound

still has not healed

 

it’s bleeding

gushing

 

a gaping wound

 

my mind a hole

a void

 

am i just a hole?

 

i want to hide

my face

me

 

crawl back

into the pit

I fought

to escape

 

at least there

no one could see

me

my face

no one could see

me

the it

 

‘poison’

 

grandma was right

wasn’t she?

I taint everything

I touch

everything

I love

 

mother was wrong.

I can’t be a hero.

 

hug me.

 

but don’t

 

it’s too late.

not cancer

not cancer

but still

tumor

brain?

frontal lobe

fair?

what does that even mean?

was it fair

when i had enough

more than enough

and all those others

they starved

they wanted

they needed

and now

this is my

my karma

my justice

to be faced with

not my greatest fear

no that already

happened

already

was

no this might be just

second

a close one

but still second

the potential

to lose what i value most

my mind

my self

i guess in this

i must come to face

with my own narcissism

i never wanted

to believe

i was one such person

until this happened

no one ever

wants to admit

come face to face

with their dirt

their fears

their secrets

no one believes

until they have to

until the truth

comes and beats

them down

smacks them

in the face

like the cold hard slab

of concrete

that i luckily smashed into

so i could get the scan

that told me

i had you.

Family

You are not family

“You have to earn that”

You are just blood

Do you even know what it means to be family?

Do you know what family is?

A light shining in a house

bright and warm

a fire in the hearth

where home is

where mother father sister brother is

where you are

where I am

family

hugs denied

hugs forced upon us to our joy

the anger and sadness too

that is family

running into the night

no shoes on

promising to not look back

of course you look back

and stop

you backtrack

tears in your eyes running crashing down your face

shame

you are ashamed

you look around

you slump slouch

head down

you turn back

you return

family

it is what calls you home

mother father sister brother

gone away

but will come back

will be seen again

someday somehow

I try to write something substantial while I wait

I am not sure if I succeed.

I was Nightingale. I was Sin.

It was a story of people, gods and, maybe… even monsters. It was a poem meant to explain me away. It’s time to give up on this… these hands… these words. They were never the right ones and no one was ever there to listen. I never gave up on my dreams. I never had one. Not that anyone ever asked or has or will. And maybe it’s time I admit this to myself… I am the monster in the closet with the lights out screaming with its mouth closed and eyes open. You should have named me the same as my box my closet. I know I am nothing no one. It doesn’t hurt anymore maybe it never did. And monsters its like me we don’t go home. Because there is no home to return to… I may be allowed a place to rest but it isn’t home. That is something I was born without. Why did you birth me? I never asked for this. What should they call me when I am dirt dust? That’s easy. I ask to be called Sin. But then it will rain. Sin? More like it. Home… it’s like rain or snow… it’s a fleeting feeling or maybe that’s just my wishful thinking hoping someday someone will think remember me… cry for me sit with me hug me hold me never let me go… instead you told me you hated me worse you were indifferent you laughed in the face of my sorrow. You never noticed anything. By the time you looked over I was broken into a million little pieces if not more and you sneered down at me and called me Liar called me Jealous called me Brute. And somehow all those pieces you could not see never saw they managed to shatter break even more. Splinter me again and again. I don’t know really what more I can say… you are just like yours those who call me Brute to you. You don’t see me. You don’t understand. Don’t you get it? I could never be jealous of you or anyone… jealousy requires competition which means we’d have to be similar or after similar things etc in life… it’s been 28 years and you still don’t see…? All I want out of life is silence quiet… I dream of birds and their songs. I made you tea. I was Nightingale. I was Sin.

The Crossroad

I guess this is where the road ends. Where will you go? I’ll sit here at this crossroad… I’ll sit here for a while… maybe forever. And the sky it was always too wide too vast and clear for me. Suffocating bringing me to my knees. Grinding my face into the dirt. Ashes cover me cover you. Except I stayed was buried under while you kept on kept running. I tried to raise my head only for it to be brought low once more. Broken hands. Broken feet. Will they ever be fixed? I wonder while knowing no no never. Wooden hands and wooden feet. And this puppet I have become or perhaps always was. One day it will burn. I stare at the sun allowing it to blind me pretending that it’s burning glare is kindness. I wonder if that is love? If that is what it’s like? And when I burn I wonder when I am ash if the wind will take me up into that sea that ocean above me that made it hard to breathe. And yet I can’t help but think that my ashes will never stir that no wind will take them up or anywhere nothing will be moved or grow from them. Mother please become wind become thunder lightning all that moves and is. Just please… little one little girl don’t stop but you already have and not a whisper of you shall there ever be.

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