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How Do You Kill A Monster Gently?


A MOTHER’S DAY ADMISSION

I go through the motions, try to play along.

But my knew-found devotion to Truth refuses to let me be.

The tears flow and the pain comes.

So I let it.

There are things worth mourning.

Places where grief has a work to do.

So I let it ride. Feel every side.

The love and agony. The knowing and doubt.

This year this day

is a day of admission of

all that could’ve been but isn’t—never will be.

The gaping distance between needed and provided.

The scars that haunt my body and soul.

The cries for help and protection that went unanswered

so I finally decided it was up to me.

At three, it was up to me.

The midnight horror stories never believed or answered.

The lies that crawled into my bed and

then my soul and told me all this

historic ugliness was my fault.

But it wasn’t.

The anger when I didn’t go along.

The rage behind the smile that

threw insults, hands and tantrums.

The “I believe you” never heard.

The “I’m sorry” that could have shifted the ugliness.

So I ran for my life and became an easy scapegoat,

A place to assign accusations and asinine assumptions,

An opportunity to paint me as the black sheep, the outlier.

 

Even now… this much later

the watercolor splashed over the etched-in horror

would wash away with just a few tears

if someone courageous bore witness.

The enmeshed manipulation that

made other extremes seem safer,

made me not require anything of anyone because

what was required of me almost killed me.

I thought letting go would lead you back.

But where you go isn’t up to me.

I realize now that autonomy is lived into,

not thrust upon.

The lies keep crawling out of the grave and I’ve had enough.

How do you catch a lie that keeps running through bloodlines?

How do you kill a ghost that is already dead?

How do you kill a monster gently?

I will go for the death blow and hope gentleness comes along.

I don’t know how to let my truth story rattle

your fantasy without alienating you further.

So I will speak Truth and pray that it gives permission to be truthful.

I don’t know how to choose words that won’t

cause blindness as they light up the pitch black.

But I will always choose the Light. Always.

I don’t know how to speak my truth when it will

strip you of the hero cape you’ve hidden behind.

You aren’t the hero in this story.

And neither am I.

 

We’re all just victims with different wounds.

But I’d rather stand here naked, exposed than wear

something false that requires constant looping

recount of the story spun and the warped outcome.

I don’t know how to own my side of the story

without making you feel like you have to choose a side.

I don’t want that.

There’s been enough of that.

But I have to live in the light.

I’ll reach into the dark and invite you along

but I will never ever return to that blindness.

I don’t know how to say all those accusations,

I absorbed them.

I knew they were pain-conceived.

So I let them sink into me because I saw your agony.

It became a habit this

silence I thought was love.

But now I’m done.

I’m breaking the silence.

I’m done ignoring the lies just because

the truth is hard and inconvenient.

I’m sorry.

I want to make right all the wrong done,

I want to go back and heal your heart,

and mine,

everyone’s.

Try again now that we all

have the gift of hindsight.

But only the One who lives outside of space and time can do that.

I pray for Guidance, some way to know how

To lay my truth before you swaddled in

The health and wholeness I found by

bowing to the One who makes us whole.

To deflect the lies without hurling them back.

I don’t deserve them.

Neither do you.

 

I want you to see my journey out—so you can find yours.

I want you to marvel at the glory that is the goodness of God.

I want to stop mourning on days that should be celebrated.

I want the tears to stop and the joy to come.

I want to believe the good things without effort.

Believe my man when he tells me I’m beautiful, worthy.

I want to believe my kids when they say I am a good mom.

I want to stop wondering if the scars that made me limp

made them blind to their own limping.

I want them to see their limp, then get it healed.

So they can run and climb and catch the view

From heights I only dream of.

I want to be together, as family, as us.

All those piercing words that wrapped around our souls,

All the times we had to push against manipulation,

All those evil things woven into warped myths.

Let this be notice to those generational curses and vows

all those lying dysfunctions swallowed whole,

All those compromises we mistook for guarantees

of a better life,

less pain,

less commitment,

less risk,

You can go to hell.

It’s where you came from, where you belong.

 

Truth takes the loose end

Unravels the monstrous myths 

washes the lies and bondage away

then knits something beautiful,

new and strong and different. 

I brush off my hands

Reach for the balm of all

Good Father has done

Turn to the Light, to those

Who surround me and those

Who embrace me.

Is it enough? Yes

Is it all my heart wants? No.

Am I content? Usually.

Am I satisfied? No.

Because my heart longs for the day all will be as intended.

Until then I lament and I rejoice.

I embrace freedom and long for freedom.

I own my healing and wait for more.

So be it.

Amen.


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