It doesn't ask.
It never knocks.
It just shows up-
mid-sentence,
mid-step,
mid-me.

My body remembers
things I don't want to.
Fluorescent lights,
locked doors,
her voice like venom,
his hands,
the smoke thick enough
to erase a home.

I'm split between moments.
One version of me
is pouring coffee.
The other is back
in a room I begged to leave,
screaming behind my eyes
while my face stays still.

And people say
"but you're safe now."
Like my nervous system
understands logic.
Like my skin
doesn't still flinch at kindness,
like safety is a thing
I've ever known for sure.

I carry too many names.
******. Liar. *****. Crazy.
He. She. It.
I carry too many versions of myself
that other people made
without asking.

And I'm so ******* angry.
At her.
At them.
At the system that locked me up
when all I needed
was to be held without harm.
At the fact that I'm still here
trying to make something soft
out of what they left jagged.

Sometimes I wish
I could go back-
whisper to the kid
who hid under blankets
trying to disappear.
Tell him: you were right.
Tell them: it wasn't your fault.
Tell me
I'd get out.

And I did.
But sometimes,
parts of me still don't know that.
They shake,
they shut down,
they show up uninvited.

And I breathe,
even when it burns.
And I stay,
even when I want to run.
And I write,
because it's the one place
I get to be the one
telling the story.

I ducked their axe
But not the slap
The belt strap
And again and again
The razorblade
To my inner thigh
Of little maps
Flesh wounds
Like roses
I built hot memories
Warm enclosures.
Now my body
Is safe
Though not from their faith
And again and again
I am still caged
But now with longer spells
Of sunshine awake.

I woke with strings attached to my arms and legs. I was quite young when I first saw them on others, but when I mentioned it, nobody seemed to know what I was talking about. They dismissed it — as adults do with a lot of things children say they see. But no. Now I’m older, and they’ve appeared on me.

I never quite knew what the strings were for, but as I went through the day, I noticed they followed every movement I made — my arms, my legs, even my fingers. The strings moved and bent with me. If I moved too fast, without thinking, I found myself tangled in my own strings. Unable to move as smoothly as before. And when I wanted to do something drastic, it took a bit more of a tug.

I always feel them there. Sometimes, when I let them, the strings move me around on their own. I have nothing to do with it.

One morning, I began to wonder — does everyone have their own strings? I sat, legs crossed, on a wooden chair at the round kitchen table, staring at the black and white tiled floor. The smell of freshly made coffee filled my nose, and the strings attached to my arms started to flutter, in and out of existence. I can’t quite remember what I was thinking then. But I felt a piece of myself return.

That’s when I realized: I’m in control. I’ve been in control this whole time — regardless of who or what is holding the top of those strings. I can take that small wooden “X” back whenever I want.

And just like that, they disappeared.

I wasn’t sure how long it would last or if it was just a fluke. But the next morning, I felt no tug at my arms. When I moved too fast, I didn’t get tangled. I could move freely through the world.

Still, to this day, I see people with these strings attached to them. Some are thick ropes, some a thin thread. Everyone is different. Yet, they still aren’t quite able to see them. And if they do, I’m not sure how long it will be until they fade away — until they take back control.

Do you have control?

For its takes its stance
Ending all hope by a single glance
A tiny dot that expands to be a blackhole
Ready to take control

If your care for me depends on your own interests of subject and time, I think it's called control instead.

L.C.

Who am I in this world we call Earth, and our home
By species, I am a human being, supposedly master of all other species
We were made to look after and care for this planet called Earth

Instead we have ravaged, plundered and ***** the planet earth
In our blind quest to obtain control and dominance over all

Are humans masters or slaves of their egos, their pride
Humans believe they are invincible, they can do anything, to anyone
Man's greatest enemy is man himself, a beast beyond all beasts
So, who am I, man, the master or man, the beast of all beasts

I am two sides of the same coin, the master and the beast
There is a struggle inside of me for dominance, for control
Sometimes the master wins, other times the beast wins


I fear, I fear the beast will gain control and dominance over me
I have seen the power of the beast unleashed, a madness, a rage
A madness, a rage only a beast from hell can possess, it scares me

So, who am I, man, the master or the beast from hell
It's very difficult to know, as I keep changing all the time
Will someone please tell me, please tell me, please tell me
Who am I, Who am I, Who am I

Most go through the motions daily
without thinking Sunday 8:30 AM
Walking the park with my dog
I noticed something that seemed off
The kind of thing you can’t put your finger on
It’s a feeling a thought something
that made me turn and look again

A White middle-aged man heavyset
Wearing a white ill fitted dress shirt,
a red tie  Solid black dress slacks
It’s Sunday OK I could believe that
He had the hand of a little girl five maybe six
She was dressed in really short Daisy Duke jeans
A white tank top with flowers
Her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail
Low at the base of her neck

Her head forward eyes fixed the ground
When somebody passes by I give the
Standard Greeting Hello good morning.
He replied good morning.

It’s what the child did behind her back.
That panicked me to the core
I needed to see it once more
She had left hand behind her back, her thumb in towards touching her palm
She was moving her little fingers in and out
Slow determination with urgency first,
I wasn’t sure what I saw

She looked over her shoulder
Then quickly , looked down at her hand,
Returning it behind her back and then
Glancing at him afraid he might see
head forward eyes to the ground
****** features emotionless frown
Not a word spoke, but you saw
something in her eyes  Fear
Almost a tear
The movements of the hand quicker
Fingers wider thicker
each time she looked behind at me
Attempting to get my to see
There was no interaction between
the adult male and the child except
for his controlling grip on her right hand

Next to the swings
There was this makeshift square blue tarps
Fashioned into an enclosure
He extended his hand and the hand of the little girl towards the enclosure.. A hand emerged from the within without the rest of the person being seen.
Again, her hand quickly extending and closing wildly gesturing now frantically apparent
The little girl disappeared in the enclosure

The man maintained distance waiting in silence
There were two young adult white, male and female, tattoos up and down their arms with them
Three children all boys, different ages I’m guessing
7,9,10  silent
They did not wiggle, or giggle .they did not do anything, but stand perfectly still.
Honestly I did not notice that at first.
My mind was fixated on the little girl

I approached them and said do you see that man and the little girl?  something seems off.
I explained to them about the distress hand signal
Taught to the children in schools in case they were ever abducted we’re in a situation they felt they could not speak and we’re not safe.

The young adult female unfazed said well he’s part of our church. Not They (the little girl) but He’s
I said something’s off. I hope I’m wrong
but there’s something wrong with this picture.
The the young adult woman offered no explanation or seemed concerned for the little girl’s safety .

The young adult man said nothing looked away avoiding eye contact
The three boys kept their heads
forward eyes downward
The park was empty
There was not a group of church people around
the park, it was this couple, the three boys and the man with a girl. All white.
I am not one who looks at color
however the police need
A full accurate description

I turned to the man standing there
waiting for the little girl and said
What church are you with?
He replied, LDS
I looked right in his eyes and said
that girl is in distress. There’s something wrong.. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t express concern.
. His mannerism was rigid.
My heart already pounding.

I wasn’t sure what to do.
I told him something‘s feels wrong
I offered him an opening to ease my suspicion
If everything was fine,
A normal response would’ve been
Him yelling, telling me off or
to mind my own business or
To reassure me, everything is fine Or
At least to ask me why I feel this way

Silence was not the correct response for the situation that I was escalating. I wasn’t yelling.
My voice was excited and loud I was shaking
This is where I made a mistake that could have caused those children their lives
I told him I’m going to make the call still nothing
I walked away and I was on the phone with 911

Looking right at the man
describing his features To 911 dispatch
I should not have alerted them that I was calling the police that gave them ample time
to Leave To get away

My husband said they would not do anything in broad daylight too much exposure

When the police got there, of course they were gone. That little girl‘s face etched in my memory
silent rage behind her fearful eyes.I failed her.
The police asked was the dad abusing the girl
He did not say he was the father. I told the police.
I didn’t witnessed any physical abuse.
Then what made you think something was wrong?

The little girl was doing that hand gesture they teach the children in school if they’re abducted or something’s not right oh, he said.
as if not fully impressed. I said I’ve been coming to this park for over 20 years. I have children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. I know when something‘s off and there was something off with that little girl.

We were finishing our walk as the Police Man investigated minutes only the whole situation plays over in my mind..  had I been more inquisitive to see what car they drove.
LDS little girls don’t dress like that
especially on Sunday.

I wonder
What was behind that Blue square tarp enclosures. Who was the person that pulled her in?

There’s a group of people who said on the bench passing out flyers for their church the watchtower. I told them about what I observed, and one of the ladies was quick to say just because that man said he was LDS doesn’t mean he really was and she started to tell me everything wrong with that picture. Another man at the market walking me to my car stated he saw a man dress like that. It’s one of the scams they use their dress like a business person saying they’re out of gas. They left their wallet at home whatever the story is very but they’re dressed like business men so they don’t appear homeless and are more likely to get what they want or to be seen blending in. The store clerk said stay away from those guys they’re evil.

This is a cautionary tale. We need to be observant to our surroundings children’s lives are at stake.