Wednesday, 6 April 2011

Hope

L.G. Flannigan



Espresso Romano



The bruises and cuts have gone, but I see the scars, still feel the pain, the shame and five years on I still question if I’m to blame. The jeering refrain of his words, a lingering hint of his breath, a mix of stale cigarette smoke and ale when I inhale, his taste on my lips, his hands touching me, holding me down…memories of it make me retch. From the pit of my stomach I purge but the hurt remains, stains my soul, no longer whole.

I have to believe I will survive, carry on, otherwise why am I here, why do I exist if not to persist and see it through? I need to resolve the anger I feel burning deep inside, the rage he unleashed…inflicted, filling me up making it impossible to eat, to breathe, to believe that I will heal.

The overwhelming fear I feel is real; his evil lurks in the shadows of my mind, outside my flat, at dusk I think he waits. He haunts my sleep, darkening the circles under my eyes. Deeper he taunts me; taking me to the brink of…I dare not utter that word…besides I must not sink, he cannot win. My skin crawls at the thought of his grin as his blows rained down, his satisfaction at my pain, how he laughed at my vain attempts to fight back…the pleading he unheeded, his lack of respect leaving me worthless at his cold heartlessness.

I trusted him once…a long time ago. I fell for his confidence and charm, his smokescreen hiding what harm he could, would enforce on me. Had he been honest, admitted he’d tear me to shreds leaving me for dead, would I have believed him…walked away instead? His ever shifting track fuelled my excitement, running in my heart I foolishly remained; my compliance may be partially to blame. His stronghold stifled my breathing, strangling my very being until I was dying in pain. His rage, a flaming forest fire, scorched my life turning it into dust, ash, treating me with contempt, disdain.

My embers, glowing scarlet and golden needing to resurrect, rejuvenate, live again but to move forwards I have to let go of the past else it’s all fake, a show, I won’t last. On my own, alone, desolate…I do not grow; taking only faltering steps upon my life’s path so consumed by the aftermath that was him. I’m not sure I can do it by myself and whom do I ask?

The heavens answer my call, my screams of desperation, sending someone to catch me as I fall. I am drawn to his unconditional love and there is something heavenly, something unearthly about him, the way he sees through my facade to the emotional scars, with his strawberry blond curls kissing his neck and his sapphire eyes sparkling stars. He sees the sadness, the pain, the hurt, the lilting gentle tone of his words washing away the ingrained dirt. I can tolerate the touch of his delicate hand, as tender as his words, wiping away my tears of emotion and healing the wounds of my soul broken…his wings envelop me and my soul sings. The warmth of his heart, his essence, his very presence brings comfort to my spirit, quiet, calm, rids me of the alarm which has invaded every part of my existence for too many years, causing countless tears. He helps me forget, reverses the regret, absolves my blame, the shame, the nightmares…the night sweats, he turns the sunset into sunrise, sorts truth from the lies, breaks the very ties…that bind me to the past and with that, at last I look to the future, now brighter, with my heart lighter knowing he holds my hand, walks by my side, as my guide, our hearts beating together, forever with me.

My angel…he gives me hope.

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