The monster opens the cupboard door
in my mind to feed his throat
with words he stored to terrify a child.
I sing of sixty plus birthdays while
the six year old inside cries from the burns
of a gaslight flame, “It was all your fault.”
Memories escape the eraser,
dance behind white wash,
pluck lashes from sleep.
Peace had kept the string taut
around pillowcase nightmares
until orange skin resurrected demons
with the match strike of an abusive tongue.
©Susie Clevenger 2017
(Still thinking Poe)
(Truth too often carries scars)
(Truth too often carries scars)
Comments
I hope not, I was terribly beaten by my father at a very young age by telling the truth. My grandmother had asked if Dad was getting a new car, I answered in the affirmative (your note, "Truth too often carries). Dad asked me if I had told her. He wanted to keep it a secret but I didn't know that. And at young age I was not allowed to tell my side, later I would rather keep the resentment (mild word) rather that tell and have to forgive.
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You know, I just learned the term and concept of gaslighting in the past year, and it's such a huge revelation for me personally and in thinking about the broader problems of our country and world. I've honestly been a bit stuck in my writing as these revelations bounce around in my head. So... just sending love along to you. I was SOOOOO thrilled to see your words used on a sign by a woman marching this weekend (and hope you don't mind that I broadcast the image here in the Garden).
dance behind white wash,
pluck lashes from sleep... goodness, that's strong writing. Wow.
I can see the terror in the words of the speaker, the wails, the hurt... I hope six decades (and a world that refuses to see abusers thrive) will keep her mind from acquiring new nightmares.
Boys will be boys? Well, they are going to have to learn to be something else....something much better...preferably something a few steps up the human food chain!