Trust, and Fire

My place of trust shut down in youth,

attacked whenever I showed vulnerability.

Layers of armor, defense, piled up

until I could no longer see the beautiful soul, the connection to god.

Left lonely, shut out, unable or unwilling to give

because I was afraid to receive.

Love hurt. It felt like a beating.

It was a beating, being passed along from one to another.

An injured child injuring another child, giving what they had received.

Insults stabbing in through the heart, cutting to the core.

Is love here somewhere?

It is but I can’t see it, can’t find it. Run away and hide from it.

Love hurts.

Never praise. Never encouraging. Never tender.

No sweet moments of peace and joy.

Plenty of dread. Constantly watchful.

Who would be next? Which direction is escape? How long will I bleed?

Leaving the scent of fear behind me everywhere I go like cologne,

wafting, calling in hungry, angry, injured souls.

Can I forgive?

Have I run far enough to relax, be safe.

Bitter tears flow, to wash me clean. To carry away the hurt, the fear,

the grubby desperation.

But not the memories. They are a part of me, of the journey that brought me to today. This is the stuff from which I am made, the fire that is lit inside the forge in my belly, giving me a stronger will, and deeper compassion.

I stop running, allow the dust to settle, and begin to clean myself up.

I mend the tears in my heart, allow my feet to touch the ground and make myself a home. A home where my forge will burn hot and bright! I have collected much in my journey, and seen the expanse off the universe.

With planted feet, and hammer in hand, I face the fire.

Tears are gone… I am smiling.

Terry Tischmak

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