The door SLAMMED
and, once again,
the young child
froze
in
fear
not knowing
what would happen next,
anticipating
shouting, yelling,
penetrating reprimands,
a cold shoulder with frozen silence,
sharp eyes of disapproval,
permeating everywhere,
filling her heart with
overwhelming terror,
leaving no room
for love,
mistakes, accidents,
or immaturity,
always promising disapproval,
sporadic expressions of love,
and the hopelessness of
never being fully accepted,
as her little,
immature
self,
but rather
annihilated,
in spirit,
once
again.
Years later,
she didn’t know,
if the wind had
blown the door shut,
or a person had shut it,
accidentally loud,
without malice or ill intent,
but she froze,
out of habit,
accepting
the blame
and subsequent
shame,
as her own,
once
again,
until
her body began
to release those
old, old feelings,
turbulent, at times,
and, then, as a
cleansing
wave
washing
her soul.
Precious Linda, c.2013
