Tomorrow's Gift

My inability to read my past poems, without being triggered, by them.

A painful window

Into the past

Left alone

And sealed shut.

But

Not forgotten

By me.

Stored away

For the day

I can sit down

And open that window

Without being triggered.

In confronting

A part of myself

Am unable

To deal with

At this time.

Whose shards

Are carefully removed

And placed

Inside a cedar chest.

With the greatest care

For these fragile fragments

Of my past.

Showing me

The journey

I have walked.

As tears of healing

Pool around me

In their warmth.

Reviews

[Matching Socks]

Confronting this of our past is so hard, but it's the past.
Tomorrow is always a new gift, a new chance. I love this one, I can feel your words.
Nice job sweetie. xo

[therisa]

Thank you, Ana. For me, writing is, one of my safety valves, in releasing, my suppressed memories of abuse and trauma, I have suffered, over the years.