~Poetry~
Written for Wordy Weekend Prompt #5 over at Caffeinated Philosophy
My parents never did hug me
Far too scarred from their own parents
Who were also far too scarred from theirs
And so the wounds pass down ad infinitum
Now I too show the scars deep within
Hidden beneath the layers of tales
Carefully laid over and over to cover
A million stacked lies told one by one
Brick by brick the wall is built around
Slowly building up until the pain is far away
Buried
So we allow ourselves to believe at least
For that scar is still there, still throbbing
Felt beneath though numbed just enough
To allow one to largely function “NORMALLY”
Until something triggers the scars of the trauma
Through all of the carefully built layered lies
Pulls at the still-exposed threads deep down
Sharp forgotten pains rip razers into old wounds
And once again we find ourselves back in the day
Everything buried explodes onto the surface
Exposed
Once again, a helpless child, afraid and alone
And so very desperate for an escape from hell
Where then can we turn when there are none
Whom we can trust to hold us safe, secure
Do we fall into the embrace of drugs and party?
To dance with Mary Jane and sleep with Jack D
Do we fall in with the wrong crowd? Those hurt too;
Hurt people hurt people and that’s what we can do
Do we Fall into work and give ourselves to a master?
Climb the ladder all the way up to the highest hell
Only to fall
Another wasted life, one more body for the pile
That is what they have done, what I tried too
Alas it doesn’t work, there’s no such easy cure
We cannot hide our scars, not even from ourselves
So instead, we must learn to embrace the worst
Those things happened, it’s ok we survived
Accept the rough and ragged edges of scarred spirits
The experiences can offer an incredible depth of character
Transmogrify our pain into wisdom, lead into gold
Enjoy the riches of a deepened perspective on life
Hug me, I’m scarred
Dust In The Mountain 
This is powerful, BM. I think many people would resonate with your words. Maybe we can be known as the generation that healed the scars, rather than passing them down. Hugs. 🫂
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Hey I am glad you think so CC! Though it might not seem so, I am an eternal optimist. I know we can make it happen!
Much appreciated, and reciprocated, Hugs!
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My mom had a horrible childhood—a mean, angry, abusive, alcoholic father, and a mother who was herself the victim of his abuse. But my mom overcame that and was a kind, gentle, understanding mom to seven children. My dad was a kind man as well. I carry internal scars but none that they gave me. In that, I was a lucky. I’ve seen so many families where bad parenting is passed down through the generations. Your poem is heartbreaking.
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Your mother sounds like an incredibly resilient woman. It sounds like she had great hurdles to overcome. I am glad she did though and was able to mother all her children lovingly.
I do want to clarify I don’t think I had bad parents. They did their best with what they had at the time. In their place I am sure I could have done no better. I am not here to point any fingers, just write down what comes out, and get it out of my head lol.
Thank you for sharing a bit of your story though. I love to hear how mine connected with you, and I do hope it didn’t cause too much heart ache.
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Though I still miss my parents, my heart doesn’t ache. They had a long and happy life together, and children who dearly loved and admired them, and when all is said and done, who could ask for more?
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Yeah I agree. We each get as much time as we get. I suppose that’s why its important to live while we’re alive.
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