A Suitcase Stuffed with Silence

You imagined I’d welcome your wicked words,

You imagined I’d respect them—even abide

You wrote that God’s going to curse me, leaving me feeling so scared and denied.

You wrote, I will heavily bear the sins of my papa, even though it was I who lived with the pain from his shame.

You pinged your prophecy like it was legit — perhaps even bona fide

You imagined me being grateful,

You imagined I would oblige, even if that meant I’d be homeless

You didn't care to acknowledge my predicament

You simply scorned my jagged reply

You wouldn’t know how your prophecy spun me crazy, as I desperately crashed to the ground

You dismissed my rights to any boundaries

You won’t look to see who I am, and so how can I ever tell you what you’ve never allowed me to say

You engineered manipulation, messing with my mind

You frightened me with warnings of Wrath, rather than showing me, He is a loving God

You knew how I’ve moved from home to home with suitcase after suitcase stuffed with silence

You would wince if you knew how I hate that you’re my mother, but I don’t hate you

You won’t know of my mashed-up sadness at the loss of so much love

You hurt that I have pulled away, and it hurts me sometimes, too

You write, Darling daughter, such juxtapositions

You told me you missed me, but I have made up my mind

You don’t wish to hear what my heart feels, as you’ve never allowed me to say what I feel out loud.

^^^

In Search of My Soul: A Poetry Chapbook:

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