5 years. 5 years. 

If I scream

will my voice be heard?

If I react outrageously

will I be seen? 

 

Speechless. 

I open my mouth. 

Not a sound escapes.

Speechless. 

I never knew,

what I should

or shouldn't do.

Would I crack under pressure if I speak?

Am I a sinner for staying silent?

There's no handbook for trauma.

There's no easy option when facing an abuser.

Why is silence so damn comfortable?

 

5 years. 5 years.

"It's too late,"

"You had your chance,"

voices whisper.

 

But is it too late?

 

If you are you.

And I am me.

Don't we process differently?

 

Why can't we speak in our own time?

In our own way?

In our own space?

When we are brave. 

A little more healed,

a lot more sane.

 

5 years, 5 years.

who I was,

and who I am, 

don't look the same.

I'll never be,

what you had planned. 

 

For now, I'm brave.

Now I'm powerful.

Now I'm joyful.

Now I'm me. 

 

 I'm still becoming.

I'm still healing.

I'm still growing.

But the light

you once dimmed,

is shinning 

out of me.

Finally.

I'm me.

 

5 years. 5 years.

The parts of me you hated,

I've only grown to love.

And this love can't be taken,

for it comes from up above.

 

A garden has been planted

where you brought destruction.

Flowers bloom with every tear I shed,

from the wounds you inflicted. 

 

I forgive you.

I do. 

I pray I never see you.

But I forgive you. 

It's true.

Forgiveness is a choice.

Some days I feel it,

Some days I don't.

But the day I chose forgiveness,

is the day I found my voice.

And 

finally

let

your 

shadow 

go.

 

I leave you in my past for good.

What you brought for evil,

God is blooming for good.