The Deceit of Reality

The rain beats on the windows.

She dashes out into the storm

            And bounds up the stairs to get an umbrella.

She brings it back and opens the door for the little girl.

She reaches for her daughter to climb into her protective arms,

And they run into the safety of home.


Silence never comes easy.

Words are thrown across the room –

Along with phones.

In the background, the little girl cries in pain.

His best quality was ignorance,

Always denying that he was the source of the problem.

She did the same,

And so the little girl cries on.


At home,

Mother and daughter sit quietly

On the couch.

Listening to the rain fall,

The little girl drifts off into sleep.


She wakes up in her own bed

Scared and alone.

Darkness surrounds her

And she cries into the worn fabric of her nightgown.

A figure enters

Baring gifts of himself.

She screams,

Searching the dark room for her protector.

Muffled by betrayal,

She notices Mama,

Standing in the doorway

Watching lifelessly.


Her mother wakes her gently from the dream

And they go downstairs to share a peaceful breakfast

Before her father comes to pick her up.


A friendly greeting is exchanged

And off with Daddy she goes –

Mama watching from the door.


For once, she tried to make things right.

She flipped the switch, and he went off.

She kicked him out and changed the locks,

But she knew his ways,

And she knew he wouldn’t change.

He came back,

This time,

Baring gifts of angry fists

And, perhaps, resentment

That was sent to the little girl.


More than a few days pass.

Mama is waiting to receive her daughter’s safe return from her father’s.

Behind her,

Lurking in the shadows,

Is the figure

            That serves as a constant reminder

Of the past she regrets immensely.

Lost in thought,

She remembers the pain she caused.

A tear escapes her eye

As she descends upon memories

That cannot be altered.

Buried deep below the surface,

She sets the shovel of forgiveness aside,

And continues to wait.


Fourteen years later

She reaches into her past

And out to her little girl,

But she realizes that she has no credibility.

Her little girl is gone

With the past,

But she waits still,

In much needed silence.


The girl is undecided.

She wants closure,

And, maybe, to start over.

She wants answers

Instead of endless questions.

She wants to know where she came from,

But she’s afraid of what truly lies in the shadows,

The rounded corners,

And the empty spaces.

She thinks that, maybe,

It’s time to find the light to fight the shadows,

Expose the points in the corners,

            Meet the sharp edges that threaten to show,

And fill in the empty spaces of her life.

And, perhaps,

It’s time to forgive.




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