The nightmare of monsters fall

        Oh it is so scary at times when my past falls into
the present. The hiding from the monsters of
degradation. So clueless are many of the trials I have
endured to just live.

        Oh I am thankful the only ways I have to now
remember is through bits and pieces of a horrific
nightmare. Pieced together by events of my
current life.

        So obvious the joy that is waiting just around the
corner. So clear is the hope, the expectation that
all that demanded to kill me is, will fade.

         Yet how do I just walk away? Open my eyes.
Turn on the lights and breathe. Really inhale
and be thankful the afraid child no longer has
to hide in a closet to escape. No longer do I have
to say this is just a dream. No longer do I have
to remind myself I have to do what is told.

          Indeed the persecution that has be grated
over the soul is only temporary. I must blink back.
Drawing conclusions of the living experiences. Ah to
hold up my head once more.

           Dare I show myself in a weakened state
then, I would have been dismissed and dismantled.
Not worthy of my name. Though today, looking into
the nightmare I am capable of say I am right to feel.
I am right to be vunerable.

         I am so far from being hidden. So far from
walking in my grave. So far from the hurt thrust
upon me. Dare you ask how? How did I continue?

        Oh even I cannot answer that question. A
hushed lullaby pulled me into a forced grown up
stage. I just became me before I knew how to
explode.

        So close. So torn and yet here I am. Crying
in the darkness over bittersweet joy. Sarcasm has
nothing on the glimmer of hope pressed inside my
heart, deep into my blood.

       The strength, the constant encouragement
that I am someone, that I will be needed. Oh that
weight gave me reason to keep struggling to live.

       So no I don't miss my father. So no I don't feel
there was love lost. So no I don't feel the need to
be around those who build up liars. I don't want
to be with in company of those who need to wipe
their shoes upon my spirit.

       No I demand to be recognized as a human.
I admit I am imperfect. Always will be but I am
a child, a woman and my name is Mary.

       No longer are there "favors" or "expectations"
of me towards "friends" of my father. I lived
for something. I became my dream. Oh indeed I
live.

       So now the nightmare has faded and even
to recall what has awoken me inconclusive. So much
has become irrelevant. Now the necessary steps
I have to take to fall, once more, to the depth of
sleep.

       Ah just the sigh of exhaustion I no longer have
to live up to a monster. No longer are there constant
reasoning to be involved in his life.

       Yet I had wanted, once, for him to just admit
me as his daughter. Just once. Ah I will not ever
know if he did. So overwhelmed by his conscience
of not saying his piece to my sister. He died thinking
he could not repair the damage between that link.

       So grateful that I was forgotten. Almost joyful
of the hate extended through his mother, his sister
and his fourth wife. Indeed they will never see passed
his glorious standings but the monster is gone.

       Oh Jehovah gave me the courage to show my
weakness to my earthly, human father. For me to
breakdown and forgive him of his imperfections,
distortions and illusions of being perfect, of being
a nasty form of a father.

       I talk in whispers still. Sometimes anger rolls
inside me, yet the understanding no longer can I
be twisted inside his sick storyline. The punchline
of degradation no longer can crease my mind nor
harm my spirit.

      So forgive me, please, if I have the appearance
of solitude, of a cheerful childhood. Illusions I
built, the walls I curled under. So my silence is to
listen, to observe and to display the best of obedience.

     No I have not travelled in your shoes and perhaps
your life was a different kind of hard but you have
not walked in mine. So don't judge me for my
mysteriousness, my calm demeanor, my color of
presented paleness and my private moments.

      No. Just understand I breathe because I needed,
I wanted and I chose to live beyond all that.

       Such a beautiful child. Such a kind, yet exhausted
child. How could anyone take on those challenges
and end up still surviving on the outside world? How?

       Yes the strength inside. The optimistic view I
was given. Indeed we all don't know what the future
holds but you best believe we are important!

       Thanksgiving, gratitude and overwhelming
love is given to Jehovah. How else would I have lived,
endured but to teach others to look for Jehovah's
words.

       Ah the silence of a long sigh. The exhale of
the pain inside the dream, now all gone.

       What? What was the memory induced? A
favor done for my father only in the smallest
of plays. A ploy to draw information from a "friend".
Information that my father could use as blackmail.

      Yes and I survived with little scarring. Dare you
ever demand to use your child in an adult role
of gathering demeaning information over someone,
you should be laid heavily with guilt. You should
want to repay the child with tender affection
FOREVER!

      Still it is too late to do so with my father,
with me. All I wanted was acknowledgement of just
being his daughter. I would have moved mountains
in joy. A small triumph in the haze of life.

    Still his last breath was not of me. That is fine.
I forgave him long ago. Dismissed him from my
view. Explained to those who exalted him, don't be
simple. Don't praise what only is seen in spades.

    Remember there are mainy facets of a gemstone
and so many dimensions inside one speck of dust.
What is given isn't always what is real.

     The sigh of a long pressed goodbye to a man
I called father. Enemy I held closer than the
love of myself. Indeed we all are imperfect.

       The kindness I must remember. So see,
I bared another piece of me. A hidden gem of
sarcasm. The private echoes that raid my
mind and terrorize me in my sleep, some days.

     So dearest friend you can now see how
I am strong in other ways, why I keep moving.
I have to. It is expected of me. So please love me
deeper now.

    Oh hold me in silence and be grateful of
the exploring of a new, unveiled facet of me.
Be happy I was capable of allowing you in for
my weakness. Ah just love this woman. Quirky,
unique and creative. Shy, private and observing.

     Will you?