The clouds are gray
but as they get closer they get darker
and then without warning lightening strikes
and the thunder rolls out roar after roar.
There I sat week after week
and the grey words encircled me
as I heard, more and more darkness fell.
I was enfolded in the midst of the storm - the eye of the tornado
but all I was by then was an empty shell.
It had skillfully been planned,
and then just as skillfully it struck
by tearing and ripping away all that I was:
lost, confused, and forlorn but also a person.
But a person that was destroyed and then discarded.
All that remained -
was not the result of rape, assault, or incest -
it was murder - there was no more me.
So, now with my soul, and heart dead
I was touched for twisted delight
I froze
as I watched in horror!
Now, as the days and hours of tears roll by
the horror now inside me -
I may have died -
but the invisible wounds will never fade away or die.
They haunt and torment me -
I cannot find anything of myself -
there is nothing left -
I wander and it hurts.
But, there is one thing that was not killed - the truth - It is Alive.
Bonnie Hall © 2001
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