My twelfth summer – the ocean of my innocence – cast an asteroid into my sea – pulling me down, like a milestone around my neck. Gigantic ripples broke the time barrier, touching every moment forward, etching every word wielded as a whip, like the rings inside a tree.
The catalyst imploded the house of cards, maternally built. Brutal betrayal sliced deep. My soul hemorrhaged. The girl inside the cage curled up, like the Fibonacci sequence. Brick upon brick, the tower formed. My heart, safe within its walls, the crown jewels I closely guard. Untouchable within this space . . . until I grew bigger. The walls closed in, two years later. The tower became my prison—I had the key, but do not remember. . . where did I put it? My screams ricocheted like bullets, taunting and prodding me . . . to end it.
Until light seeped through the tiny cracks in the mortar. I held my breath and listened. Staccato clicks chipped the seal, binding the bricks together. Fear struck like an icy tsunami, stealing my breath. Bricks began to vanish. The pure light blinded as it surrounded and enveloped me. I was paralyzed within a light, alive with a love more ancient than the universe. Two nail-scarred hands reached in and held me. I was undone and reborn in that moment . . . recorded outside of time.
I wrote this poem to highlight the ripple effects of childhood abuse and trauma. This is a part of my story. Each survivor’s story is unique. Every voice needs to be heard.