Working my way through something from which I first had to heal; now I can begin to recover (but how?).
I remember a day
Unable to answer your questions
With your words circling around in my head.
Stuck somewhere in the back of my throat
Unable even to stut.
Was that always me or
Did you corrupt me here, as
I no longer recall.
The haze of your control
Took those memories from my grasp.
Still, now, I realise
I am a silent stutterer
Unwilling to let myself even think
Of those unhappy sentences.
I know they will not come out.
To combat a demon, you need
Or so I’ve heard.
Catching the eye of someone on the bus
It hits me:
In these three years I have dropped
All pretence of being able to speak.
I wish instead
For them to speak
When he speaks
I cannot answer.
A reply does not cross my mind.
By your hands and words on my throat,
What do I need to do
To fix this?
Rushing against a brick wall
Will kill you before
The bricks fall down.
Better to chip at the mortar.
Without tools and
Unknowing where to find that mortar I
Wander endlessly in circles.
Your circles still.
Your crushing will.
I dream a distant day
When words flow freely as a spring
As love does from a heart unfettered, and
A child looks up to its mother who
Has beaten the worst thing to ever happen to her
And will make sure they do the same.