How it was ...

Frozen,  Combusting


the little girl
with big brown eyes
stands
paralyzed
as shards
of pejorative names
cut her
slicing the
neat bows
and locks
of childhood innocence

years are spent
dodging
the psychological
shrapnel
fired aimlessly
by the
Korean war vet
fermenting
and stewing
in his beer glass
a permanent fixture
on the living room sofa

bigger girl
loses sleep
nightly
as she smothers
her ears
with the pillow
trying to drown out
the slurred raging
in the other room
lulling herself
with streaming tears
while plotting
all the ways
she could do away
with this
demonic man
who dares to
call himself … father

young woman
now finds
solace
and
refuge
in the same bottle –
a magic potion
to give her strength
so she can spew
back at him
the venom
collecting
over the years
in the pit
of her soul

storming
and
raging
she aims
inward
and often
drowning deeper
in the liquor
flying higher,
getting sicker

spiraling,
spinning
out of control
she is deaf
to the pleas
of loved ones
trying to help
her get well.

by night
she lies
simmering in
her stupor
then awoken by terror
in the grip of panic
and impending doom
unable to think
or move

after falling
long
and
hard
she scrapes
herself off the bottom
re-surfacing
from the wreckage
cleaner
and
clearer
yet
scarred
from the plunge

though a mature woman now,
when face to face
with
another’s pain
another’s rage,
she can be
instantly
transported back --
the time machine
from hell--
and there stands
that same
little girl
frozen,
combusting