5 years

 5 years. 5 years. 

If I scream

will my voice be heard?

If I react outrageously

will I be seen? 



I open my mouth. 

Not a sound escapes.


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 your abuser.

Why is silence so damn comfortable?


5 years. 5 years.

"It's too late"

"You had your chance"

whisper voices 

that leaves me in a trance. 


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.


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.







I leave you in my past for good.

What you brought for evil,

God is blooming for good. 






◄ Past Sheep

December 25 2017 ►


Profile image

Anmolpreet Kaur

Wed 15th Jul 2020 11:04

It's never late to break the silence Abagayle.
I loved that garden as well. Hope it will blossom this time just not from your tears but heart.


If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message