BPDFamily.com

As a woman of thirty,

My [url=https://bpdfamily.com/content/communication-skills-validation]validation (https://bpdfamily.com/content/communication-skills-validation)[/b][/url] would still come in the darkest nights

Between my body and the wall was the space of the

Groaning Holy Spirit

The silent space between my heart and the wall

As my body would transform into the child

And turn over the requests in my mind that I

Could never verbalize

When I was that young, innocent

Flat chested girl who woke up in the morning

In a princess bed beneath an Oak carved flower

With drenched sheets smelling of urine

Lucky the cat beside me with her singed fur

(she had survived a fire)

And we understood each other,

Lucky and I.

In the closet with my hands over my ears

Knees tucked under me in my bomb shelter

Of darkness

The walls were safe, solid, immovable.

Their screaming voices echoed back to me,

And all I remember is the shaking-

Shaking the house,

Shaking me,

Shaking soul.

Breathe, I would say, it will stop

Eventually.

Well said. Clovermomma, I can really imagine the pain you were in as a child, and I hope that writing brings you some comfort and release.   

clovermomma, I'm very sorry for what you went through. This poem shares the pain and the instinct to survive that you had. You have a great style, and even though the subject is heavy, your words are steeped in imagery. Sending much caring to you, and thank you for sharing this piece with us.