There are times I happily forget

that you exist at all,

outside of nightmares,

the broken shafts of disturbed light

and the mental scars of abuse;

I happily forget the put-downs,

the anger, the snide comments,

the destructive silences,

the tailor-made insults,

the one time you hit me,

the mean demands,

the malicious lies,

the spiteful kicks,

the way you left me in a hospital bed,

the wickedness of your games,

the cruelty,

the cruel devices and heartless devious nature

in which you tried to have your mother

put in a home and the reflections

of an uncaring society

blazing away in the recess of your brain,

soul eating and being devoured

slowly from the inside

by a crocodile made of acid;

sometimes I forget all that

and I smile that I survived.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016