Heart thumping,
Hands clenched.
As we sat in a circle
Telling our stories,
Sharing our testimonies.
First one, then another.
One by one people talked,
Shared their story.
Then I spoke.
Hesitant, not wanting to share.
Wanting to be closed up,
And keep it inside.
Arms around me
By the one person I trust,
And many voices pleading,
Get me to speak.
Quietly, I say one thing.
My family is terrible.
Then I can't take it anymore.
I throw my glasses,
Pull my hair
And rock back and forth
Trying to keep the tears
At bay;
To not break.
It doesn't work.
A few tears escape.
I hug my knees,
As people close the distance.
All hugging me.
The girl who doesn't hug.
But they won't let go.
And at that point,
I'm not sure if I wanted them to.
A few more tears fall
But I refuse to cry.
Instead,
I wipe my tears
And face my family.
The people who are there
My youth group.
My family.
YOU ARE READING
From The Pen To The Soul
PoetrySometimes, writing isn't an option; it's a necessity. This is my story. Everything I write, is a part of me. But it's up to you, to find your story; connect to yourself through my writing. (Most of these are sent to my big sister)
