She is Past

The seal broke releasing the past. 

Its sentence was up and like an uninvited haunting it was making its arrival known. 

Wanting to hide in fear it chased me down. 

Like a child I hid under my blanket pretending that if I couldn’t see her, she couldn’t see me. 

My protective force was faulty. 

I peeled back my cover, slowly exposing my face. 

There on my bed sat Past. 

She was innocent, honest, weathered and bruised, having a lifetime of memories. 

My fright softened – I saw her not as a criminal, but as she was. 

I had held her hostage for so long. 

She had become a danger to who I wanted to be, but she was…is…me. 

She is my days, my early years and now. 

She is my story and testimony. 

She is not shame. She is my life, my invitation to heal. 


2 thoughts on “She is Past

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  1. I really like this poem, it speaks to me in many levels. As I am in my own journey of recovery from a pet of my life where I failed to recognize who I was meant to be, the last line is powerful. Thank you.

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