A Brave Girl with Holes in Her Clothes

i sit with my plain greek yogurt
sweetened with real maple syrup from
the land where i was born my gut
is scrapped raw woke this morning 
caught in a nightmare from last nights
movie a pandora's box whose lid is
usually well sealed dealt with this
garbage from my early childhood long
ago but still it can be stirred by a
horror story too close to home 
the coyote whines in the distance
don't disturb me tonight they sing my song

laying unsleeping i weep for this child me lost
that makes me sometimes cling to my wife until she might 
suffocate because if i am alone in our
house fear creeps in on legs of danger
in this state American as apple pie
i am guilty of something??? there is a rotten
hole in my solar plexus where my innocence 
died it is where my anger originates and boils
out unaskedfor zinging arrows at trivial things

it wraps my arms around money when i want to
be generous afraid it will hold me captive 
and without funds i will be unable to run
tells me i am incompetent, damaged unworthy
to prosper unable to sustain love points
an ugly gnarled accusing index finger in
my direction digs into my skin and twists
the truth with unmitigated lies 

because I am old and used to this nasty voice
i scream prayer into my past
call out to all right and good give
way to a consciousness so filled with
light the voice of this accuser abuser
this dead old satan whine goes silent again
i rise wiser ready to do the laundry
sun rises with me... outside 
morning is breaking me open and up
i praise this new day and walk away
brave again like the girl who beat the
odds and made it out with only a few
holes in her clothes

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