I chase the infinite through a mewling void.
What is found slides sideways past my nose.
Who am I and to what purpose am I to report?
You know me only as a shroud,
a white face curling at the edges.
–
Nothing is sacred until it is lost,
among such preciousness
I am so much less than I expected.
The abyss yawns bored of my reflection
and into it I cast my offal,
those miseries which have
rotted free of the umbilicus.
–
Do not invite me to forgiveness.
My inner child frightens me
what she did in order to live,
what she saw and what still lurks
in the shadow of her ancient heart.
–
She must have been stronger than me
a hero and a demon distilled into one.
I cannot think of her
without remembering the shame,
the shame of my survival and the toll it took
to create of a child a perfect monster.
mindlovemisery 
Profound words.
Thanks =)
I’ve been reading your past few entries and haven’t had a chance to respond yet …. but shit, damn woman, I came to this powerful understanding, for me …. you are such a wordsmith – a crafter of images, painting ideas in words, with such concrete precision, in the most creative way, without “playing clever” at it. Which is what makes you such an exceptional poet. 🙂
You know me only as a shroud,
a white face curling at the edges.
The abyss yawns bored of my reflection
and these are just a few gems – which as I read this again and again, allows me to understand just how powerfully you express yourself, and in this case, unearthing the pain and trauma of abuse – and surviving it – and then learning to live with, and move past ….
You totally rock it Yves – completely.
Thank you so much Pat, when a compliment opens with a double expletive you can’t help but smile lol I am so glad you enjoyed it I really haven’t been writing much lately and I think to my detriment because it is kind of like letting the ghosts out to play, if I don’t let them out once in a while they get violent and then I can’t sleep
yup – when a comment starts off with a string of swear words in praise – it’s a good thing in my books! LOL 😉
writing can be a useful tool, but it also can be hard, especially when it absolutely demands a voice for the pain and trauma, the ghosts – because for as much as a “release” as it may be, of feelings, sentiments etc. it doesn’t necessarily relieve the pain and allow for a positive, forwards movement. It’s a balancing act, or juggling like chainsaws – and I think so much of it has to do with just how much “distance” and impartiality you are feeling in the moment. But yes, these bloody ghosts can become more than demanding and aggressive, so whatever small ways you can allow them to have a voice, slices at a time, may help.