The Power of Reaction

In the annals of my history
There is no boutique of trendy memories
But painful truths and festering untended wounds
And a few scabbing scars
The handful of torments I have dealt with
The rest still create dis-ease
Amidst the scatterings of joy and content
I know of my mortality and yet I hesitate
For the unpacking could be near lethal
In the reliving of their source
But that which is for certain, undeniable
That I should succumb to these lacerations
In a way of abundant agony
Should I leave them ignored and forgotten
Though attempted at its best
Their stench is never far from recall
And I might not explore the depth of my reactions
I know they are infected by these garments of upset
Which I’ll now try on and wear to my skin
To delve and probe and work to repair
Squeeze the oozing pus from their flesh
That once I’m done they’ll fall apart
Never needing to be worn again
Nor wanting of repair or influencing my todays
For they’ll be washed in disinfectant
And forgiveness doled out
To the perpetrator as memory perceived
And myself the wretched victim
I will not ladle with blame neither I nor you
For unknown reason and assumption make
A terrible mistake that weighs a multi ton
Not anchoring but rather drowning
So from here on out I take it on myself
To not allow comment nor an action power over me
Debilitating, bruising and contaminating
Brewing in a cesspool of toxicity that could be evaded
As I take on myself the duty and responsibility
Of how I will react to anything you say to me

Debbie Gravett © 2021.09.22

FOWC: Boutique
RDP: Lethal
Image by icsilviu from Pixabay

4 thoughts on “The Power of Reaction

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