A wilted rose,
Shattered mirror
And fragments of a face I knew.
Lost, dying, breathless\u2014
Disintegrating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the darkness I hear the demon
Knocking behind the vaulted door.
Only in the dark, only in the
Suffocating walls of isolated thought\u2014
Those which never see the light\u2014
She knocks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I lock the door, but tuck the key
In the pocket of my jeans
That have seen too many days in the sun.
If only it would fall through the strips,
The shredded holes that grow larger
Every time I trip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something about that key.
I reach back for it, rub my dirt-stained
Fingers over its smooth golden face,
And I remember:
It holds the power of the vault,
The secret place;
The one with monsters
And faded dreams.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A shadow always in front
No matter where the sun may stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I pull it out, fit it gently
Into the lock and twist until
The pain grips the center of my heart.
It opens again and the crescendo begins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I see his eyes\u2014calm then crazy wide.
I hear his voice\u2014soft then blaring loud.
I see his body\u2014small on equal plane,
Then it grows and unfolds like a giant
Rising up from slumber.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I close my eyes and feel
The press of liquid between my lids.
My voice sinks into the deep,
And I watch myself fall on bruised knees,
Pain shooting up my thighs and back
As they crack against the floor.
My head droops low, pulling with it
Hunched and bony shoulders.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And a whisper. I slam the thick steel door as hard as Sounds of perfection, so perfect that Once I owned perfection. Religion is the name of this demon. But to Jesus February 2020<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A wilted rose,Shattered mirrorAnd fragments of a face I knew.Lost, dying, breathless\u2014Disintegrating. In the darkness I hear the demonKnocking behind the vaulted door.Only in the dark, only in theSuffocating walls of isolated thought\u2014Those which never see the light\u2014She knocks. I lock the door, but tuck the keyIn the pocket of my jeansThat have seen too…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[103,175,25,20,85,459,170,330,168],"class_list":["post-584","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poems","tag-darkness","tag-emotional-abuse","tag-grief","tag-pain","tag-poetry","tag-recovery","tag-religion","tag-religious-abuse","tag-spiritual-abuse"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/584","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=584"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/584\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":769,"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/584\/revisions\/769"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=584"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=584"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bexroden.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=584"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Faint, so faint.
I give up, Dad.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
My feeble hands can thrust.
Yet, still the sounds echo within
The hidden room where
My mind escapes and often dwells.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The pain looks like gratitude
And the horrifying looks like blessing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now it is lost and all that is left
Are fragments of betrayal,
Ignorance, wrath, and terror
That first wrapped themselves
In that sheep\u2019s clothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And from Religion I will run
For the rest of my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Is it what I always thought\u2014
Too good to be true?<\/p>\n\n\n\n