In the stillness of my epiphany, in the darkness of this rage, in
the moment of a sudden breath taken away by age, in the road of empty
travels, and the storms of inner revenge, as a little girl unravels
upon her perpetrator’s hands. He slowly sneaks through the forbidden
door, through the net of white, through the noise of quiet crickets,
in the crescent fallen night. He puts a finger upon his lips, he tells
to say no more, and in my nightmares of reality, as if a demon walked
through the moor. He makes me close my fearful eyes, and rain beset
my chest, I cry like the entire world is gone, and emptiness left
the rest. Through the twilight, through the voice of nightfall’s
rain, through the quiet stabbing scream, through the terror that I’ve
been. At last I feel so folded, a little flower at rest, it sways
to show no beauty, it hides its aching mess. It blooms distinct the
spring leaves, unlike the fields of grass, a little girl just longing
for
this eternal pain to pass. Hold tight until the morning, hold tight
until the day, and keep your silent weeping until he walks away. Grip
on to your only transience, grip on to illusory dreams, do not wonder
do not ponder; don’t depend on what it means. And as this existence
may scroll on, as the shadows continue to follow, as the child in
me is growing and awaiting my tomorrow, the nights hold me no refuge,
the days just empty space, the crying child still lingers as I long
to find my place. And though the days have passed me and survival
of those nights, and though the stormy weather dreams have left in
ancient flights, the man is still waiting in my nightmares, through
the unforgiving moor, and in these dreams I cannot help to fear the
forbidden door. So in this stillness of my adulthood, in the hours
of empty hopes, in the chills of summer pains and passing through
to cope, I still feel this dim epiphany, in the darkness of my rage,
in the moment of my painful breath taken away by age.