‘Pillars of Death’

A sample from Book 7

 Pillars of Death
  
 I'm an apparent suicide
 who took
everything buried inside
 ‒sprayed it out
like pesticide
  
 they call it a homicide
 raging words
was all it took
 for love to dry
 ‒leaving only tears
to cry
  
 slowly I died
 asking every kind of why
  
 why only anger's words
was enough
to cast me aside
  
 why my truth
was reason
 my life
 ‒its very existence
to hide
  
 my being
no longer resides
 in hearts
I believed
could override
 evil's prancing stride
  
 they all cast me aside
 for thoughts...words
 I could no longer
hold inside
  
 instead of holding me
 as these eyes cried
they buried me
 ‒an unmarked grave
 deep outside
   with bugs and flies

(December 5, 2014)—Today is one of those emotional days. A woman in her 40’s has to face them if she likes it or not. But is it just hormones? It’s getting closer to Christmas. I have come to hate the idea of Christmas. I used to cherish it. I used to decorate and enjoy people coming to my home and feel love and joy.

Mama always made Christmas special, and she embedded that in me. Now, it’s different. I spoke to my mama last night and she asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told her nothing. I bought myself a new bike and a computer. That’s all the material things I need. But, I guess there is something I want. Truth. I want an explanation to why they so easily buried me. Isn’t that something I deserve?

I’m in the process of healing. Isn’t it only fair to have my family help me? Why did they betray me? I wrote ‘Pillars of Death’ earlier this year. My poetry dealing with family is a mixture of sad and happy. They are not [an] easy read for me because they always leave me asking myself: What did I ever do to deserve to be cased out the way they cased me out of their life?

I want them to anty up and go to my used-to-be home with their trucks and collect the rest of my things and show up here and say: We believe in you, Karen. Please, take our love.We’ve stored your things in a safe place.We will protect you now.

That’s what I want for Christmas.I do think I deserve to know. I deserve the truth to why they so easily buried me. I was their sister, their mother, their daughter…and I know I’m worth it. Until then, you won’t see Christmas coming from me. I won’t be decorating or celebrating. No. God is always in my life. I don’t need a special day to praise Him or His Son.

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Paperback: Silent Abuse: Scream NO MORE!: You’re in Depression. You’re Not Losing Your Mind. You’re Just Doing the Time. Book 7

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