Home to the Memory of Love

I have been going through an awakening, perhaps an apocalypse, maybe, of the spirit. If one could hear the conversations in my head as the pathways of my heart are stripped bare by reality. I mean how is we can accept the burden of family when family does not need you. I can remember that time, like a cancer in my stomach.You decided to leave to India, to your divine lover, your “guru”. Left me, left us, with someone you knew never wanted to father us in the first place. You were probably praying there was a shred of decency in him, responsibility there that he would keep us safe, fed, warm. Don’t worry I made and have made that error all my life. What warmth you must have had, not even thinking about us tat time you have been living forever. In my dreams I come upon this big grey house, full of hope. Upon entering it comes alive with hosts of demons preying on the three of us. The three rebels. Another fun thing you left me with, two angry hurting siblings taking it out on the one who tried the best for them. I mean that death stare my sister used to give me….big empty hurting eyes sitting at the kitchen table. Sitting there hating,blaming, not knowing when the pain will end. My heart bleeding for her but I know she is beyond reach I lost her the first time anyway, by the well….turned my head for a second, hoped for a minute made a wish turned and she was gone. Along the way my brother arrived, back and forth, in and out from his battles on the streets to the barrage of anger and hate at home. On and on our desperate hearts tried to grasp the abandonment and then the denial and mockery of a memory always they need to forfeit the blame.

One day I took your hand, kissed your head….I love you forever.

Now, this time is an echo of that loss. There is nothing left, no phone calls, no pictures I am in. Again I have been abandoned by the ones who could have would have should have……it hurts to know I helped where it wasn’t wanted…I can remember that, what you said as you were calling me a stupid idiot…..we don’t want your fucking help! I couldn’t accept that, even now as my kids echoed this theme too….we don’t want you, or your help. It is a soul breaking thing when the ones you would die for could care less.

Can you hear that? We’ve come to an opening in the forest. Alone, almost there. The breeze is nice here, warm fresh, reminds me of home. English downs, fresh tea, love. I’ll be home to the memory of love soon.

It’s a really sweet memory …..Happy voices talking in the background,  the smell of dinner. There’s the sun streaming in through the windows, through the door leading to the backyard. I remember the timber of your voice, full of warmth and patience, understanding, love. I thought I was going to be there longer but the shadows came back, like they always do. The shadow of narcissistic attention, look at me, what about me but your not good enough for me but I’ll settle for you child anyway….such a disppointment, I have no guilt about the soul raping damage I have done and will do because you asked for it by loving me, by caring for me. He doesn’t care one way another what tear in your heart will be there and pretty soon neither will she.

The boulders on this path to the summit are huge, it seems like I keep climbing over the same ones again and again. I know I’m not but, Jesus! Will it end…..I am elated when I finally reach the break in the path, no more boulders just the fallen tree across the chasm that I must walk.

2 thoughts on “Home to the Memory of Love

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