Picking at the Past

I have decided that have at least two books of poetry already written. I have been writing for over 30 years after all. I have so much poetry, it just needs to be edited, organized and published. But that means going through it all, and with it, the memories. Which led to the following poem as I basically picked at scabs and poked at scars. Here it is:

Going back to the past

The pains still there

Right where I left it

Gotta unpack it, examine it

Look at it square in the eye

Measure it, claim it

Dig it out, write about it,

Make it my bitch

Everything there’s still the same

That’s why I don’t live there anymore

I’ve moved on,

Healed from it, left it, learned from it

Moved on past it

But still it wants acknowledgement

Hey, it happened, time to own it

My pain helped make me

What I am today

So it’s time to stop hiding,

Feeling ashamed,

Pushing my pain into the dark,

Deep, secret places of my heart

Like a vampire, the light will kill it

Drag it out and let it burn

Show the world what I’ve survived

No more shame, no more pain

Make it work for me

The final step, the final piece

Taking back what it took from me

So it no longer has the power

to make me bleed

 

 

 

 

 

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