Childhood hurts
How does one get over a childhood hurt
that is the poem that you gave to me
and I would love to tell you it’s in prayers, in psalms
in the melody of your favorite song,
I would like to say it’s in the whisper of your lover
in the softness of his touch,
in the morning walks with your thoughts
or on your ride to work
I would like to say you can find it in creativeness
wrap it up in art and sell it to the highest bidder
or write it down in words to be sold
on Amazon- well, before it’s pirated, anyway
I would like to say it’s in therapy
‘over it’ comes in a drug called Fukitol
take two (with food)
and call me in the morning
Yet here’s the thing
I’ve learned in 37 years
of asking myself the same thing
that you asked me
How do you get over a childhood hurt?
The answer is simple
You don’t.
That hurt you will take to your grave
Now, before we get despondent
before we throw in the towel
and cry ourselves to sleep
let me offer you some solace
I’ve traced my pen
across my scars and bled out on the page
I’ve wept, and winced
and cried and lamented over how bad it still hurt
I’ve purged the infection, over and over in my art
and while the scar remains
I lift it up for the world to see
and find that others have wounds like mine
We connect.
And it’s there in that moment
this bizarre realization
that the thing I once despised
I am grateful for
You never get over it, no
but you can get through it
and you can use it
instead of letting it use you