Long ago I used to pray. Those times a cousin's cock was thrust into my eight year old body. I still believed God was good as tissue was violated.
Long ago I used to pray. Those times my fathers fist rained down like a southern thunderstorm. I still believed God was there as bruises painted my skin.
Long ago I used to pray. Those times my mother calmly said I was the worse thing to ever happen to her. I still believed God had a plan as I felt her words, an eroding knowledge.
Long ago I used to pray. Those times my neck enclosed within my fathers grip. Coldly stating my life would amount to nothing. I still believed God was love as I learned of powerlessness.
Long ago I used to pray. But my knees have not touched the ground. I know there is nothing beyond or within.
2 comments:
It's important to say things out loud; secrets lose their power when they're no longer secrets. Keep healing. Continue to say the things that you need to say. It's difficult, but it's worth it. If you're weighed down, every view, every love, every truth will feel much heavier than it should.
“The Body Keeps The Score” - Bessel Van Der Kolk, MD
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