Writing, Writing….Gone.

I wrote when I loved.

I was young and love was me.

God’s little girl.

Not a care, not a worry;

just a heartbeat.

When I found myself giggling and wiggling

with merriment, I wrote:

My dad’s coming over just me and my dad

My dad never ever makes me sad

We’re gonna have fun so much fun to have

Yes yes just me and my dad

That was the first I’d ever written;

I was smitten.

Intoxicated with the promise of hugs and cheek kisses.

Man, I miss it.

Then I wrote when I was sad.

Life got a little bumpy

Mommy got a little grumpy,

saying things that I didn’t understand.

Like the spies are watching us and

don’t talk loud, there’s a mic inside the fan.

So I wrote, hoping God could lend a hand.

Then I wrote ‘cause mom was mad,

said that I was being bad.

Took the notebook that I wrote inside

and ripped it in half.

She said I shouldn’t think those things

I’m only in third grade.

Said I needed a psychologist

and Daddy was the cause of this.

And when he protested,

she tried to have him arrested.

So I wrote just to prove that I can.

I was tired of the lies.

Tired of being reprimanded.

Didn’t know that schizophrenia

had got my mother maddened

and the hero was supposed to be

my daddy but he turned on me

he didn’t really care about

my problems or well being

so I wrote because of hatred

and anger, and pain,

and lust, and love,

and sadness, and madness,

I was completely stranded

thought my death would bring me gladness

my notebook was made of tears

and the letters disappeared

ink smeared in puddles

and my comfort turned to rubble

and I wondered how I plundered

so far deep into the struggle

until finally God said to me

Stop!

I am here to make your life easy.

I’m not here just because you chose to believe me.

And now that you’ve stumbled, you think that I’m gone

when in reality I couldn’t leave; my love’s too strong.

And now, I write to God,

for He is the infinity.

The only thing that’s constant

in my world of calamity.

And I tell him how I feel.

The pain is His to keep.

The love is ours to share.

The tears are his to sweep.  

We try so hard to protect ourselves

When He knows where the devil dwells

Why do we think that we are strong?

We are the same. We are all wrong.*

*Excerpt from “I Love God,” an original song.