the traffic rumbles past the verandah.
I am inside.
the sunlight streams across they keyboard
as I type
and the shadows play
on the two vacant seats
of my three seater lounge.
I must have felt very hopeful
for there is another empty
two seater,
waiting forlornly
for me....
joining me
waiting.

Thoughts of my childhood
have become foremost in my mind.
I need to process these awakened memories
that vividly challenge my sense of self.
There's a growing anger in my gut,
perhaps it's my need to defend my child soul,
to stand,
and yell at the past,
the violence of words
so selfishly thrown at my innocence.

I have felt deep guilt for too long.
I have atoned for my reactions.
I have not given myself the right
to answer back, to protest, to howl
with the cruel pain that was never
deserved.
No wonder there are no tears.
I have refused my soul the joy
of emotional release.
Instead I have turned my anger
back onto myself, returning to my
angered persecutor, with apologies
and affection.

Thank God I am alone.


There is an awakening.
There is a dim unrecognisable reflection
in the mirror.
Whose eyes are these that find mine?
I have no expectations of this face.
He does not know how to be
without expectations,
and so,
I must teach him to
be.
Me