MY PAST CHANGES SO
by Chris Wayan, 1985, reworked 1998.
"It's never too late to have a happy childhood"
How I climbed up from hell to happiness in seventeen stanzas.
CLING: to the rock of smile, |
and all the while
deeper cracks the dome.
DOUBT: dirt in the soup;
ALONE: surrounded by
BITTER: mud remain,
ANGER: blood hiss faster,
FIGHT: the blare of rationalltheworld.
LOSE: jungles of confuse,
SCORN: napalming red
FEAR: only murk
SLOW: the horrorlakes of blood|
Mud the earth's so-silent mouth.
Wet lips bend; the justice-whistle rise.
HELP: as earth you fed,
BENT, my new eye faces in.
BUILD cathedral, trash on can:
WIND huffed up the ediface
RAINS on gargoyle spires
WILD, your garden.
That is: for the abused, there are stages where being bitter or confused or avoiding or obsessive aren't character flaws but survival tactics--necessary, but only in that stage. Take the long view. Because in the long run, you can climb out of your deadly past. Given a lot of work, and time, and tolerance toward some very strange behavior. Not tolerance from others, though that helps. Tolerance from you.
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