Holding it in,

stuffing it down,

for years.

Journeying from adored to ignored

and damaged.

Alone in a house

swimming with people.

Boisterous brothers, too bothersome

to bother.

Symbiotic older sisters,

loved and loving,

but leaving the nest and me.

Adults,

holding it in,

stuffing it down,

with their business,

and busyness.

Too broken and spread too thin

to notice,

to see.

Together when drama and trauma

focused the view, for a time,

for births and deaths

and defects,

while secrets were buried and lies told.

Holding it in,

stuffing it down.

Gaps in memory,

self-inflicted.

Choosing to forget,

filling the story with blank pages.

Creating sanity

living in the chapters of others.

Choosing the drama,

the love in hard times,

preferring the scars.

Holding it in,

stuffing it down.

Screaming through the invisibility,

See me, see me.

 

Sherri Walker for The Poplar Grove Muse