The Comfort of the Massacre
I penned my first poem when I was 7 years old. I found it a few years ago, stuck in-between pages in a book of my mothers. The paper tattered almost unrecognizable, but I knew the words by heart. I wrote about a morning that changed the course of my life. I was living with evil. Even so, that morning was when the outside world began to know my inside life.
I can still taste metal from the presence of blood. I see the butcher knives stabbed into the walls. I still envision the words written in blood. Yet, the most vivid memory was the song playing on the radio… Oh, how that song can make me shiver…
I always find silver linings in all my challenges. Several silver linings emerged from this battle. My brother survived and he is a true inspiration. I also discovered my love of writing. Pen and paper have been my constant ally.
Life is beautiful, even in the midst of tragedies.
Look between the lines, read between the words.
I’m impressed with my 7 year old self…
you walk in
see your kin
dead on the floor
when you open the door
you back up
tears filling in a cup
seeing the knife
that took your brother’s life
I’m the little blonde girl ❤️
The song playing on the radio that morning, now is on my playlist.
I tend to take negatives and make positives: )
There is one verse that still gives me goosebumps..
Abracadabra, I’m wanna reach out and grab ya….