Abscond: The Latin Root of Me

If you found my name on a diction’ry page,

what word would I be?

To “abscond”, the word with my meaning,

Is to flee, or leave.

Fear of being taken into custody,

Is surely what made me run.

I ran to escape a prison, because I did nothing wrong.

I ran from the dungeon of your words,

You, my peers and seniors- friends and family.

Family you did this to me, and friends idled nearby.

Family you made me this way, why am I the one who has to die



HE did this to me, but the invisible judge and jury stood before me

and counted ME guilty.

Guilty of being a child.

Guilty of being unaware.

Guilty of not speaking up sooner.

Guilty of being dirty now-

Running, and hiding away in secret.

The word ‘abscond’ comes up again.

I fought with the daemon that constructed the prison

And the people who tried to put me there,

But all those dreams that I had as a child are

Locked away in the same place that my innocence is,

And I lost that a long time ago.


In case you’re wondering,

I DID get caught.

Yes, I spent my years of high school suffering there- alone,

I got out on good behavior, or should I say bad.

Anyway, they allowed me to go home.

My family waited with stern faces and began to wag their fingers at me.

I cried and asked them, “Stop it please…

I don’t want to die alone.

Why is it my fault?

Why do we pretend it never happened?

Why do you all want to forget?

It didn’t happen to YOU!”             

Salty tears crashed from my eyes,

Like the waves in the ocean

Where everything is beautiful

Until that one ship tips, or that one line breaks,

Like a slave of the state breaking out of their prison.

I couldn’t take it anymore, but the weight of that little girl’s dreams

Still resonate within me somewhere.

I will be those things one day, but not today.

When you’ve been to the pen,

it’s hard to find the job that you wanted to begin with.


Now I make movies.

I document pain,

And film its release.

I’m still hiding behind the camera though:

Hiding behind the emotions that someone else feels.

And I’m still alone.


I am better,

Life is better,

but I am still running away from invisible judges

and the visible jury that tells me that I’m guilty

each time I walk past a mirror.

That was a dark time for me,

But it helps define my journey.

This poem is about: 


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