Hollow eyes

Eyes of glass

matte paper projector screen

with the scenes playing from the inside

I remember too much

and now I can't scream

Got to take it in stride

Flash back to seven

flash back to blood

flash back to lies

as I held back the flood

I was the child with thumb in dike

I was the girl with banana seat bike

One day I "fell on it" and bled so much

I remember doctor's cold gloves

indignity of exam

Private places

empty spaces

filled with pain

never the same

I try to cry, scream, swear, weep

I try hardest to go to sleep

To walk the halls of unconscious mind

like the Oreo lost in the bottom of the milk glass

I dive in and I'm sinking fast

I just go looking for someone to believe in me

Cover up the scarlet letter

Wrap me up in robes

Lead me out trembling

If only I could say (like He did)

"It is finished."

Flip the switch.

Go back to life.

Have eyes that see instead of flash fear reflection.

I can't say "it is finished"

friends, family circle shields

and tell me no

tell evil where to go

Hide knives and pill bottles

I stifle

and shiver cold

And dive instead

of death and her freedom

into small joys

swing on the swingset

paint a new picture

develop some film

Try to regrow life from a hollow soul.
Try to remember why I want to age out slow.

This is a video portrayal of my Gratitude List for this week.

Excerpted from my Gratitude Journal #568-600:
#569 Friends who come over in the middle of the night
#574 Being allowed to have a pencil
#577 Despair - yet huddling like the chick
I am under His wings
#581 Forgiveness given freely
#583 Cheerful night nurse - swapping night shift stories
#587 the sweet childish "I think I like you very much" from the autistic woman who doesn't speak
#596 A sermon that splays me wide open
#601 That God uses me, least of all His children, to speak the Gospel to broken people. 5 people accept salvation and I give away 3 Bibles in 14 days at the hospital