Conversations with my brother
Those awful, awful memories
While I do.
Although
Maybe it is more powerful to be able to forget
Maybe I am the weak one for the memories on loop
The wide-awake nightmares where
I can hear myself scream NO
While the blows fall
And the words draw blood
Maybe it takes as much fortitude
To forget
As it does
To remember.
To relive and learn how to be safe
In my
Own
Skin
I cannot blame him for his quick and concise judgments of me then
Or now
It is how we were raised
In this house we
Criticize Emily
We
Dump our unexpressed emotions onto her
And devour their forced release
At whipping time
I did it, too
When the blows stopped
When 18 arrived
I stopped eating
I took all of my emotions that were too big
Finally, I knew they were too big
I learned it, Daddy! I see it now!
I took
All of my fears about the future
The unplanned future
This problem child can't have much of a future
And punished them
By
Punishing
Me.
In this house we
Hurt Emily
We
Break her body and
Drink her tears
But
WAIT
This isn't working anymore
And dying on the floor
Finally reaching that
Pit of despair
Losing my hair
And my mind
Is next
It's worth saving.
It's worth saving.
I'm worth saving.
What if I'm not
Just a pile of rot
What if I wasn't a manipulative mastermind at the
Age of three
Using tears and fears
To control my parents' behavior
What if I wasn't a spoiled brat at the
Age of twelve
Wanting answers to questions like why
Are you talking about others like that
Why are you talking to me like that
When your job is to preach about Jesus why
Can't you be more like
Jesus?
Jesus.
Why were the people in the psych ward softer
Kinder
More
Understanding
Than the people in the pews
And the pulpit?
Why did I think they weren't people?
When clearly this IS where I belong?
Why are we all being treated as less than for trying to heal what is both more and less broken than society will allow?
In this house we
Heal Emily
We
honor emotions and her
Ability to hold them and her
Ability to feel them with us, too
Jordan,
I'm here.
I'm still here.
|
8
favs |
766 views
15 comments |
378 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
EMDR is a trip, y'all.
Other stories by Emily Sparkles
Tags
This story has no tags.
"In this house we
Hurt Emily
We
Break her body and
Drink her tears
But"
A powerful piece. The form is wonderful and in the tradition of "Visit to St. Elizabeth's".
"This is the house of Bedlam.
This is the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam."
"Conversations..." is stark and real. Unsettling - which is what poetry should do. Good work. *
I am humbled and honored by your reaction, Sam. Thank you ❤️
"In this house we
Heal Emily"
Brave and appealing.
Very effective. Love how this moves from shattered to whole.
Powerful and painful.*
Thank you, Darryl, Dianne, and Tim ❤️❤️❤️
"Maybe it takes as much fortitude
To forget
As it does
To remember."
Profound poem. *
Beautiful piece!
Thank you, John and Agnes ❤️
Wow, Emily! You had me at "him: No." So definitive, and we all know (maybe) what it costs to not remember.*
Thank you, Beate ❤️
If this has even a modicum of autobio in it, my cup of empathy overrunneth. Salvation cometh (sorry, I'm stuck on the "eth"s) with the artist's pen, however. This is well-crafted and craftily moving.
Thank you for your empathy, Mathew. It is much appreciated.
If this is a personal narrative, you are brave to share such deep anguish and healing. Well delivered, and I agree, the folks on the inside are far easier to take than the ones out in the world.
It is my story, Angela. Thank you for seeing it well. ❤️