Well of loneliness

Staring down another well of loneliness
How deep it really doesn't matter
One can drown in a teaspoon of water

It did not happen

I am seven years old.
My brother is ten.
The beating was brutal.
My brother is recovering consciousness.
I believed he was dead.
My father made us watch,
as he threw him off the wall.

Quick !

Do what is necessary in my head
to forget.

Here and now.

The best way is to
pretend it didn't happen.
I must not speak of it.
No-one must say anything.

It did not happen.

It did not happen.

Not just pretend;
but change the memory itself
Bury whatever is left of it.

Here and now.

It did not happen.

Wild creature

My love is like a wild creature
who visits me at her whim.
I cannot ever expect to know
when she will appear again.

I wait at our familiar rendezvous
hoping for a fleeting glimpse;
enough to inspire more words
of admiration and devotion.

The secret

Come out,
come out,
wherever you are.
I know you're in here.
You dirty little secret.
Gnawing and eating away
at the edges of my soul;
like some voracious parasite
smart enough to know
I must stay alive,
or it will surely die.

A child's prayer

I was seven years old.
I approached the priest in earnest;
"I want to take the lord Jesus into my heart."
He instructed me to kneel and pray with him.

A week passed.

I approached the priest;
"Please, can we try again,
it didn't work.
My father is still drinking and hurting us."

So much for sweet Jesus.