even on my best grown up days, there are subtle ways
she… gets my attention.
inside me, this little girl,
wide-eyed and innocent, just wanting to explore
this… life that too many times has led her astray,
look long enough in my eyes, and she’ll look away
see, long ago aloneness crawled into my bed
and i welcomed the embrace
in fact..i instinctually pulled it close to my face
to the soul in utter darkness, it seemed like heaven.
because, this wee little girl of seven
had… already endured gut-wrenching pain
sucker punched by.. generational shame
and the kind of love that….that rubs you raw
like grinded meat that leaves blood on your hands
like the sands of time that count down my days…three, two,
just one dance
and this kind of taunting trips me up whenever it gets a chance.
and god have i been tripping
like a con-man tip-toeing over his… well-crafted words
like… a tom-boy skipping rocks over nose diving birds.
it was there… at the age of 10..
i noticed my birthmarks for the..very first time
this… secret loathing that tickled my bone cage
this… melody of lostness and fist-pounding rage
tell me, does the captor know she’s been spoon-fed lies?
has the razor-sharp pain of yesteryears carved out her eyes?
please… light me up like a star in your sky,
melt me.. like the sun sucks the desert bone dry.
pour me.. liquid and warm over the mold of my bones,
‘cause i wanna be new again and i wanna tell you…
siphon out.. the bitter chill in me,
tell me.. my heart is not my winter,
that i’m not… stiched in black by needles of pain,
with.. icicles falling from the top of my cage.
tell me, that my frame is not hail and storm and slippery slopes
that this noose around my neck is not made of a rope
should have told me about lingering in the story
and the.. seemingly endless journey through purgatory
you.. should’ve told me that my bones were brittle
you could have told me so much
but you told me so very little.
but your silence………….spoke volumes.
i’m not angry, but i have set my face like flint
because when i was at death’s door,
my babies squawking
she..showed me a glimpse of christmas beneath the snow.
she.. gave me the urge to fight for my soul to become whole.
and as i began to rise
“teach me now, because my spirit is weak.
speak to me in tongues, it’s ok if its unique
speak a frequency that resonates deep within,
please, i’m fucking drowning and i cannot swim”
like i once could innocent and free as a kid
with cindy, christopher, and joey in the hood
this.. love starved little girl grew up guarded
and believe it or not, sometimes i still feel discarded
and roam like a caterpillar on a slippery limb
like an old woman offering up a catholic hymn
a lifetime of pain; is this the way?
dancing with rulers in a kingdom made of clay?
the darkness swallowed its meal
four decades of subliminal grieving
four decades of pursing and fleeing
i am done.
Dominica Applegate is an author, writer, and transpersonal spiritual teacher. Her teachings have helped millions of people experience emotional healing, relationship repair, and spiritual awakening. Earning her BA in Psychology and MA in Counseling, she worked 12 years in the mental health field before diving full-time into writing.
She runs Rediscovering Sacredness, an online portal that offers inspiration, essays, resources, and tools to help heal inner pain and experience more peace and joy.
Her books include Recycle Your Pain: It Has a Purpose, Into The Wild Shadow Work Journal, and a collection of poetry entitled, The Pain, It Shapes Her World.