What lies at your door..

I got your message from this phone number in March.

My heart, it did not parch.

I prayed. And I prayed.

My emotions, it did not stray.

This has been building since I was 10.

Do you remember what happened then?

I tried to tell you about ‘Cinderella Syndrome’.

But it went over your dome.

I love my nieces.

And I’m sorry they got caught in our feces.

“I should forgive and forget.” It’s the Christian thing to do.

You did the best you knew how to do.

Did you?

I’m the one who is broken both physically and emotionally. You knew?

I’m an adult. Should I feel this way?

If I talk, will you listen? Will you hear the things I need to say?

The last 49 years have taught me, no.

Why should the next 51 be any different? So;

in my broken mind, you only really loved one child.

You protected, sheltered, fought for the one you considered meek and mild.

I witnessed the love you pour on my nieces.

I witnessed the tears you spilled when your favorite child (in your eyes) fell to pieces.

You are capable of great love. Where was mine?

Why couldn’t I ever feel the shine?

I wish you no ill will. Just know, I am not fine.

You made your bed. And I’m making mine.

You may remember life differently.

The past I stand on is rickety.

I have work to do on me.

Work I should never have to do. See?

No, I don’t think you ever will.

What I’m saying should be a bitter pill.

A pill you don’t want to swallow.

Let along accept that you created this hollow.

I’m an adult. And how I choose to move forward is up to me.

You do not get to treat me like a dirty flea.

I am a child of God. I have worth.

I am capable of mirth.

Other people can see this in me.

You can only see it with a fee.

This is not an invitation

for open communication.

I am not! I will not be anyones emotional rag doll.

Upon this point, you can bet all.

This mess lies at your door.

This mess has been spilt on the floor.

I’m shutting this door.

And I’m mopping up the floor.

How we proceed is up to God.

I will go where he tells me to trod.

Time will tell if this path includes you.

God’s time not mine has the power to make things anew.