Bells and alarms sounding, clanging in the night air. “I did something, come quickly.” Is the message heard.
Footfalls pounding, chanting out their familiar song. Left, right, left, right…what did she do now?
Bang bang bang on the door. The crickets chirp as the tree frogs make their bird call sounds. No answer.
She did it. It finally happened, too far, no return. What now? Bang bang bang. A young shoulder slams into the hard door as it gives way into the quiet cacoon.
Strange place, sour smells of the night before emminate in the air. Down the hallway the footfalls pound and chant, left, right, left, right…she finally did it, what now?
Dark door to back bedroom gives way to the sight that was always sure to come…left, right, left, right, brace yourself.
The sound of snores can be heard under dirty blankets. A nudge wakes the comatose body, startling awake. “What are you doing here, I’m just fine.”
Red can be seen everywhere, or maybe it’s in the eye of the beholder. There’s a pounding and a chanting rythmic pulse traveling through the veins at the realization that it was all for naught.
Anger spews out of every pore. Rage flares the nostrils wide with contempt. Words spew forth never to be forgotten. Memories made, soon to turn into flashbacks.
Most of my poems and writings come with happy endings where God comes in and saves the day. I am still waiting for healing from some of the childhood horrors I faced. I know that God is working on me each new day, but those things buried under years of excuses, shame, and ignorance are hard to scratch at for they weren’t my mistakes made but transgressions made around me, involving me. They can be hard to figure as I was an innocent child.
This poem is about my mother and one of the many times she attempted suicide. It’s a sad thing to watch, let alone grow up around. Unfortunately, to this day she continues to do these attempts that are plotted and engineered by her. Taken in on a psychiatric hold and released and again and again.
I’ve never known anyone who had a mom behave this way. I’ve felt like an oddball and no one around could understand what the repercussions of actions like this do to a child. Until I met Julie Peters on wordpress. She knows about these types of situations as she has the same situation with her own mom. It is a true comfort to know you, Julie.
So after finishing up “The Whole Truth” Series, I’ve come to realize that if writing about my own mistakes and regrets could do a work of healing in me, maybe I could write some about my childhood. Simply for peace and healing for my soul, no for pity or attention. I will be doing this series different because my childhood was in peices. So I am naming it Fragments of a Broken Childhood. It will be coming out bit by bit, snippets here and there as I hope and pray for more healing along the way.