Whispers of children anticipating and planning a celebration.
My ears delight in sweet voices,
full of wonder and love.
Voices speak of teddy bears and bunnies,
soft blankets like their own and a birthday box to hold it all.
My heart melts as I listen,
hanging on every word that passes through the monitor from their bedroom,
knowing that this moment will be hidden in my heart and mind forever.
A little boy played with army men, anthills and hot wheels,
Lost his father to mental illness and mother to trauma.
A little boy was forced to become a man at a young age,
experiencing abuse and violence
within the safety of his home and mind.
In a closet he found peace, Alone.
Locking away the part of him that bore the pain,
smiling and joking his way into adulthood.
A little boy grew and let the pain disappear,
and experienced love, babies, a career and sacrifices.
The man carried himself through life, alone in the closet.
As he grew older, the boy demanded to be heard,
he was angry, sad, lonely, abused, traumatized, unseen….
he would not remain locked away.
The man soothed him and allowed no one inside this protective room.
The isolation felt familiar, but like a moth drawn to a light he was allured by its warmth,
loneliness and detachment,
Until one day he could not manage the little boy,
even though he walked toward the familiar soothing of the “light” hoping for relief,
he found instead he was swallowed up by it.
The little boy with all his suffering and pain, disappeared.
The Unmaking 