This pain enveloping my heart
Is nearly too much to bear
It’s crushing weight is
Squeezing pain out my eyes and
Air from my lungs
This hole, this void
Is eating away at me as
Each second becomes harder to
Withstand in the silence of the night
This absence that will never be filled
Is breaking me in two
If only I could turn
The clock to a happier time
A warmer place
A time where I could save you
One void of your suffering
One absent of all our pain.
When my life ended, it wasn’t the creaking of the stairs that warned me too late. It wasn’t the flickering of lights, or the unnatural draft blowing through the room. Not the fear in my belly, or the sense of being watched. I didn’t hear voices and ask who’s there. No. I didn’t creep in the dark of a haunted house.
When I died, it was the breath on my neck, the stab of the knife in my back, the pain that brought me to my knees. That’s what warned me too late.
It was the machete you plowed through my center, the one we used to hack away at the overgrown vines on the door. I didn’t have a cliché horror movie moment where the viewer yells “He’s behind you.” No, your betrayal made no sense. The shock of it left me in pieces as you stomped your way through my escaping blood. The laughter coming from your gut chilled the last remaining heat from my body as I lay lifeless. My last sight was your retreating figure not looking menacing at all, but rather joyful. My heart beating quickly at the rapt confusion pushed what blood I had left at your distant feet. My body cold, my life extinguished.
10 some odd years ago life dealt me a hand I thought I’d never survive. The day began in dread but the sun didn’t know that. The birds sang happily, people were enjoying their summer, and tourist were oblivious to the pain of my life.
It was my last place to stay. A place that should have bridge the gap between escape and freedom. I was being forced out.
6 a.m. I awoke, grabbed my children, babies rather, and strapped them into the cumbersome double stroller. All my possessions in that one child carring device. I had to dress and change them in the bathroom of a grocery store. The reality of it hit home, hard. Tears found a path down my face as I did my job as a mother. Wiping them clear, I squared my shoulders, lifted my head and made my way out of the store and in search of the person that could have saved this from ever happening. My mother.
With the heat beating down on us, I walked several miles to the home I escaped from in the first place. Not to live, but to contact a person she disliked. That person was my only hope remaining. Four states away, my life would have to start over. ..again.
Through my toughest trial, the sun shined happily in the sky. Not at all sympathetic to my life. Each year I remember as that traitorous sun shines happily and find peace in the rain.