wanderings

through

I knew I buried this deep.
I just didn't want to face it.
I figured after all this time
beneath the table
the rug
the floorboards
the dirt
and rocks
I'd just get used to knowing it's there,
but not think about it.

But I thought about it
a lot.
Thought about how it's not real
it's not fair
it's selfish
it's undeserved
I don't deserve
to feel it.

It's not about deserve anymore.
It should have never been about deserve.
It's about honesty.
It's about facing myself,
even if it's wrong
and irrational
and immature.
It doesn't change the fact that
it exists.
I'll never be free of it
until I acknowledge it.
Feel it.

Maybe then I'd stop telling myself
I'm not worthy.

So, I pushed aside the dusty table
and rolled back the threadbare rug.
I pried up the creaking floor
and moved earth
a handful at a time.

Down deep below the dead roots
and crawling bugs,
with black grit packed under my fingernails
and skin cracking gray and red
from the clay drawing out moisture,
it lay there wrapped
in the pillowcase I shed tears into
then stopped.

The hurt
The pain
The disappointment
The distrust
All the ire I never wanted to associate
with the thought of you.

My rational self knew better,
but could not reconcile the feelings.
So, it all turned inward
and I collapsed under the weight
of my insatiable criticisms.

I have to go through this
if I'm ever going to get to the
other side honest with myself.
If I'm ever going to believe I'm worthy.
If I'm ever going to believe I'm deserving.
I need to feel this
for the child that I was
that refused
and scream back into the nothing
This is all real!
These things exist!
Don't run,
but embrace and understand
what it means.
Maybe then I can stop lying to myself
to cope
with what I refused to face
and then truly let it all go.
If I'm ever to not fear it,
I'll have to feel it.

Only one way through.