We are Now. Them, Then, Him you must put aside so we can be present and mindful of ROCK.

ROCK doesn’t crumble, there are so many rough edges though. Run the softest part of your face, your lips, your palms, and feel. Look again. Some of ROCK rubs you in a way that challenges you. As these words bleed from the deepest part of my “Self” I remind you that they will hurt, not comfort you. Truth is rising, like a poisonous indulgence, it warms in my throat, swelling and ready to cause my quiet secrets to froth. Not like the salty froth along the sandy shoreline, more like the foaming which slides down to the chin, pauses, then drips slowly and steadily. A sickness caused by an intruder of my soul, my trust stolen and choked out of my gut. Every Truth was once denied to surface and then ROCK said, “We are ready.” We, me, ROCK are one and what is real is rising, rising, higher than any tower, any universe. Truth is on the top shelf and taken out with care. Hold it. It stings, it is time to let it go. Next, ROCK said, “Speak”.

Little me especially sensitive with a mountainous heart. Little me loved them, worshiped them and attached to “him” fiercely. He was bigger than heaven and earth and when he left I learned to crawl into my inner house. Four stone walls with baby blue painted cement. I loved baby blue and it was safe and soothing. Inside my house I hid from the Truth which wrapped around my sturdy walls and I was so protected, the Truth couldn’t reach me. I stayed with it and emerged when it was not looking. I took all the wicked, ugly, sick things that I didn’t like and shut them in. ROCK said, “You are ready to open the door, go on.” I looked around me and realised that the bad “him” couldn’t hurt me anymore and slowly began to breathe with such peace as a woman; I would not be his victim. I will not hide. Every pebble of my being will be accounted for and I will not suffer more. THEN. HIM. SGT. BILKO. FATHER. LIAR. DRUNK. TONGUE. FRAUD. SHOWER. HIDING. CON ARTIST. ABUSER. I. SEE. YOU.