Scribbling My Way Out of Purgatory
Telling our stories
Published in
3 min readApr 28, 2022
There are things I may write
that will never see the light of day
truths too hurtful to convey
until too many loved ones are tucked away
in graves or urns or oceansides
I turn inside, a child confused
by the secret she held
at age 4 or 5
loads of wet, grey laundry
stashed away for another day
That little girl held
unearned shame until decades later
fearfully murmuring in her therapist’s ears
only to hear it wasn’t
that big of a deal
your child-brain misread the situation
but when you are assigned the secret keeper
it is a big deal
afraid to be taken or worsen the situation
afraid to hope for a foster situation
afraid to speak my truth to anyone
no words at 4 or 5
frozen again at 12…
