My ghosts are hidden from you

Lurking in the shadows

Invisible to eyes other than ones

Trained by history to see them.

–

I try to blind myself to their presence

Yet their darkness penetrates my eyelids

Intent on stealing whatever peace

I’ve managed to wrap around myself.

–

Their voices soundlessly fall

Upon unknowing companions

Yet their silence screams into my head

Showering me with hateful words.

–

Worthless. Stupid. Loser.

You deserved what you got.

You are destroyed – why even try?

Even God hates you.

–

I cover my ears with my hands and

Like a child I repeat meaningless chants

Trying to quiet the brutality

These ghosts drive into my head.

–

I look away from their ugliness

And ignore their vicious words

I tell myself to focus on the joy of today

I can convince the ghosts to leave.

–

I am delusional with wishful thoughts

These ghosts stubbornly won’t go away

Clamoring to be seen and heard

They are squatters in my soul.

–

I too wave my hands when I am unseen

I raise my voice when I am unheard

I need to be recognized

Demanding my rightful presence in the world.

–

What do these ghosts know of friendship?

Have they ever heard words of encouragement?

Surely they are deeply wounded beings

Carrying the burden of my past.

–

These ghosts only know the worst of the world

How would they react to kindness?

I could bake them some cookies and

Introduce them to the taste of sweet comfort.

–

If I could look at them without being blinded

And hear them without going deaf

We might walk under the shelter of trees

And share our stories with each other.

–

Maybe if I gently and carefully introduce them

To the same kind of love and tenderness

The Universe has bestowed upon me

My ghosts might relax into a sense of safety.

–

It is time to welcome them home.

© Karen Privé, 2019

Originally spoken in This Is My Brave, Concord NH