Not Believed

The layers of shame, like cheap wrapping paper,

Torn away, the memory surfaced.

Weeds curling around my sturdy garden flowers,

Desperately trying to maintain my beautiful garden

But the soil was starting to dry, my flowers wilting,

A wicked wind scatters my broken petals,

Unsaid words of the past.

My seeds, my story, carried away on the brutal wind,

All the flowers in my story fell on dead soil.

My words didn’t reach their ears.

My tears didn’t blur their view.

I had kept this assault inside for so many decades,

When the grenade finally went off, it shot through the family,

Exposing one person for what their truth was.

Tags

abuse, grief, Loss, shame.