By: Linda M Crate

for so long
i allowed myself to be haunted
hunted, hounded
by memories of the past
that i refused to let
go;
they cut me like the shrapnel of your
sharp words thrust into me
like a knife—
i crippled myself on the edge of your
nightmare,
forgetting that i was meant to shine
i embraced your death
like a lover;
but one day the sun and the moon and flowers
and trees and rivers
sick of my sulking
came to rescue me from this prison and tore
through all the wicked words you
impaled me with and healed the wounds
sewing back my smile
upon my face
when i thought i could remember it no longer—
you were just a bad chapter in a book,
but i reminded myself that the
villains usually get their just desserts because the hero
always finds a way to survive,
and so i survived
so i can save others from the mercilessness of your
wrath.