Life's Grainy Polaroid by LJEddy featuring Bena brooches
At almost 43 I wonder how other people remember.
At somewhere around three I learned to forget.
Buried the memories.
Buried Me.
They come to me now like a choppy slide show of grainy Polaroids.
At eight I won prettiest costume.
They saved the clipping from our small town paper.
I scratched out my face.
Pretty isn't safe. Invisible at least gives the illusion.
I no longer wake trying to scream, back against the wall, hands out.
Nowadays I lie paralyzed but angry as hell.
I'm almost 43.
The pain of spirit and soul
has become the chronic pain of no name
and tears are hard to make
but they aren't so needed anymore.
At 38 I gave birth to a miracle, a savior.
She is strong and sassy, lively and extroverted.
She wears me out and lifts me up.
There are days I consider
stepping off the curb to escape the hurting
then she says, "I love you, hold my hand"
and I know I'll never leave her.
I'm almost 43.
And I finally understand that sex isn't the same as I love you (though they'll let you believe it is.)
Passionate, Temperamental, Eclectic, Quiet and maybe still a tiny drop of Insane...
I'm ready to be Me.
