#wayhome
Fingernails gouge my palms
as I listen to his sermon,
waiting for The Moment,
the one where I understand:
He didn't mean to hurt me.
He had no choice.
He's sorry.
But he says none of those lines.
His lies fall in between heartbeats,
each one softer than the last,
in calm, measured tones
I hear only in my memory...
"I need your help."
(I need to feel powerful.)
"You can trust me."
(You have no choice.)
"You want to be my special
girl, don't you?"
(I will say anything to get
you to do what I want.)
The words land exactly as he drops them.
Truth hidden behind a polished veneer
of innocence.
Doubts hit hard.
Why was I so gullible?
(so naive?)
Did I deserve what he did to me
because I believed his lies?
(Nobody deserves that.)
How did I not know the truth?
(I was five.)
For every answer there's another question
until, head spinning,
I. Stop. All. Thought.
(no more)
Every belief I ascribe to him
is a lie.
I was important to him.
(I served a purpose.)
He loved me.
(He used me.)
Every truth of mine has a hidden meaning
I would have walked
through fire for him.
(He burned me, big time.)
I loved him.
(I adored him.)
If life is built as a game of lies,
he's won.
If it's built on honesty, there is
a deeper reality here...
I survived.
(I won.)
Listening to myself,
I found My Moment.
No longer lost, I found
my way home.
6d ago
May 29, 2026 at 1:25 AM UTC
In the loveliest reverie I was walking by
Your voice I hear low and calling
My name the trees echo and sigh
The waning yellow mountains sprawling
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 12:43 PM UTC