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