I lost an eight year old,
I don't know where
He is but I'm pretty
Sure he's gone
For good,

Thank God for that small mercy!
He drove me mad
Controlling my ****** life,
Rude and selfish little ****,
Unbearable little ****,

I still have a hurting
Babe in arms though,
Weeping in his pain,
But he is healing fast
As I hold him to my heart

And tell him from
My adult self
That it's okay now,
He is much loved,
And all will indeed

Be well.

Like the moon I have
A dark side,
Just as everybody does,
Even the most amazing
Alabaster lady,

But the most important
Aspect of the moon's
Dark side is not
The darkness but
The mystery,

The unknown unseen
Parts of us,
However my dark has been,
Remains indeed,
Illuminated by

Self knowledge,
A new found self respect,
Self awareness,
Aware of my great worth,
And the value that I bring,

And I finally love who I am,

Now to find the one
Who will admit
They love me too,
Entirely, wholly,
Truly

From the perspective
Of improvement I can see
That there was a lot of
Darkness in me
Or mayhap more an absence
Of light,

I am not  
Nor ever have been
A bad man,
But like many "not bad men"
I have done bad things
To people that I love,

And that does not
Sit easy with me,
But looking deep inside
I can see not so much
That I have changed
As regained my true self,

It is as if that bright pure
Core in me became,
Like the hull of a vessel
At sea
Encrusted with ****
And barnacles,

A lack of awareness of
Other's needs or hurts,
A selfishness and unworthiness
Of action and attitude,
Even towards my kin
And she that I adore,

These things encrusted
My good heart,
My core,
With unworthiness
That dimmed the light
That burns within me,

I am like a sailing ship,
Emptied of loose gear and
Run up on a beach,
Masts hauled down and hull
Heeled hard over,
To expose encrusted planks

To daylight,
Then the indignity
Of scŕaping awày that ****
And in front of one I love
To boot,
But I got my brightness back

And now, like
That sailing ship,
I am newly refloated,
Reprovisioned,
In all respects ready
For sea,

And I wait for
A destination,
And - God willing - a fellow
Vessel to sail with,
Preferably in close company,
Or otherwise

Alone

I wrote that my
Eight year old
Is no longer screaming,
That a loving hand
Watered the budded rose
Deep within him
And therefore me,
And thereby changed
EVERYTHING,

Now life is like walking
Across an ancient battlefield,
I know for sure
That armed struggle
And violence took place
Right where I walk,
But now the breeze
Carries only the sound
Of bird's songs

My feet swish through
Meadow grass,
No longer mud
From Flanders fields,
I like,
No in fact I love
Walking here now,
Will you perhaps
Come walk here too?

It seems I have been fighting
One way or another
My entire life,
For justice,
Recognition,
For a chance,
Success,
To right a wrong,
To be heard,
Sometimes I have simply
Been an agent of chaos,
At war with myself or
Maybe just from habit?
I really do not know,
But this thing I do now know,

I am done with fighting,
Done with begging
And proving and supplication,
Done with over egging
The situation,
Done with self recrimination
And recrimination of other people,
Done with fighting,
Done with guilt,
Finished with manoeuvring
And tactics and strategy,
Or whatever that label is,
Ÿou either love me
Or you don't,
You will want me,
Or you wont,

I no longer need to win,
I no longer need be right,
Heck I can cope
With being wrong -
Who knew?
I just need to know,
And from that moment onward,
In very truth from this one,
One way or another
You and I
Will have peace,
Because
The wars,
Are OVER,
We have reached
Our armistice