Graveside Poetry

Goodbye in Three Acts


1.
I have worlds inside me
Universes where lives are lived and lost
I melt between them
appearing and disappearing
while my face forms into your desire
Cherub
Captive
Coquette
Chattel

I read the books 
and hid inside the pages
You thought you’d found me
but i wasn’t there
Meantime my body was your marionette 
Pleaser
Performer
Puppet
Plaything

I lost myself in cleaning up your kitchen
and cooking for you almost made me happy
still i knew to stay behind the iron curtain
while stirring the pot in my lead apron
it protected me from your x-ray eyes
Darling
Daughter
Doll
Delight

You never saw me
I was waiting in the wings
Listening intently for your reaction
to my performances
My golem dancing center stage
Sister
Sidekick
Savior
Slave

I live these worlds in dreams
Sleepwalking through my waking life
My children raised by a shadow
I look at pictures but i don’t remember
I was inside living orbits away

It’s all your fault
You put my hands and mouth
my fresh warm body 
in places i didn’t want to be
So i ceased to exist


2.
The cars that came to take me away
that brought me back scooped out and hollow
Never knew i was already gone
Long gone before they even knocked
I’d clicked my heels and blinked and flown away

Walking in space and dancing with stars
My mother was the sun
She shone so bright 
i couldn’t see the corpse beneath me
The maiden on the pyre made from my bones

I watched her burn to ashes
I shed no tears 
I voiced no cries
I floated down to her remains and
I performed my necromancy

I am the root of your carnality
the ramification of your wretchedness
the remonstrance of your rape
I am your reprimand and repercussion 
your reproof and I rebuke you

Your cross won’t stop me
from this sacred appointment
Nor my brother that you twisted
into ugly angry knots
His warning is my parting gift

I blink twice against the sunlight
to clear the water gathering
these tears I shed are not for you
they’re all for me
and from each drop that falls I’ll grow a diamond

I look down upon your resting place
the pretty pink stone merely performative
because in that place where we remember
no one truly mourns
The ground is the best place for you
Molester
Mutilator
Murderer
Monster


3.
Dear Mom,

You were a creature 
a canker 
a cancer

and I’ve come to your grave for the children inside me

You were a pestilence 
a plague 
a poison

but I planted these petunias to keep you imprisoned

You were a disease 
a deceiver 
a destroyer

Now I dare to dance over you in devout celebration

You were a slayer 
a strangler
a sniper

So I sing out my joy at the death of your savagery

All My Hate,
~Histrionica~
*Crossposted from my other platform




Dear Diary: So, It’s That Time Again…

This time of year is always an utter shitshow for me. It’s my birthday in a couple of weeks, and memories have cast a pall over every birthday of my adult life. These are the worst few weeks of my life, every year. But i feel strong enough, and ready to change that. My present to myself this year will be peace. No more living in old traumas. I lost the face this weekend, and had to rely on others to bring me up to speed. I was lost in suffering that was over decades ago.

Childhood trauma is so bloody powerful. However, i’m relatively functional and productive in society, now. I stand up for myself and go after what i want. I don’t allow fear to keep me from moving forward. I can handle more responsibility. I’m finally, actually growing up.

But these few weeks get me every time. It’s like i’m a leaf in the wind. This is pretty vulnerable stuff, and i hope i haven’t made anyone reading this uncomfortable. I plan to post this on both blog and socmed pages, and i’m writing about how messy i am. How prone to despair and problematic drinking i am when mid-March hits. I have to put it here though, because i feel an accountability to this page that i’m hoping will help me accomplish my goal.

Social media can be such an insidious lie. You only see what anyone wants you to see, and that might be just the good stuff. Based on its cannabalistic (and well-earned) reputation, i don’t blame anyone for how they edit themselves for the internet. Not at all.

But here’s another small way that i can be helpful to others. I have found that the best way to heal from my trauma is to forge through it, to shine a light on every single bit of it. I’m more in control of my system, and i lose less time. I know how to weather both manic and depressive storms. As i dissociate less, i’ve become avoidant of social situations. It seemed counter-intuitive, but life had another interesting surprise for me, which is ASD.

Being around people has become more and more difficult. I lost a dear friend due to my inability to handle certain social situations. I can become completely overwhelmed to the point of panic in mere seconds. What do i do as a human who absolutely loves other humans, but can’t stand to be around them for very long? How do i fulfill my job as a humanist out here in my Little Crooked House?

I can do things like this. Be honest about my situation. Let people know who i really am, warts n’ all. Admit publicly when i’m wrong, take responsibility and offer no excuses. Reach out in empathy, in sympathy, in truth, with a spirit of kindness and generosity.

Vulnerability is my gift to others.

Courage is my gift to myself.

It will take courage to get through these next couple of weeks with a minimum of dissociation. I won’t want to do it sober, at times, but i will. The most intense and vicious abuse would occur in the spring and the fall. This year for my birthday i will stay strong and not permit myself to soak in the blood and tears of the past.

I will always be broken, but i am mending myself with gold.

Love and Peace,
~H~

Singing in the Dark

Heart of my heart i went down to the water to see you
But i couldn’t
I got lost in the eddies and captivated by currents

Mind of my mind i climbed up the mountain to hear you
But i didn’t
The wind was so loud so i picked a few wildflowers instead

Flesh of my flesh i delved deep in my dreams to meet you
But i shouldn’t
The dreams are lovely and terrible and i find it hard to leave

You are the water that threatens to take me
You are wind that will blow me straight off the cliffs
And you are the dream that will hold me in sleep forever

Song of my song i wrote this to sing for you
But i wouldn’t
And my throat ached at my resistance

Pain of my pain i reached out blindly
And i would
I sat still in the dark tonight and sang it to you

You are the one who gave your life for me
You are the reason my body yet breathes
I will sing to you now and always

I found you here and here you ever shall be

~ Mine, September 03, 2020

IMAGE: Pawel Szvmanski