The Cross


Long ago this cross was my lifeline

I clung to it with my eyes

until it became an imprint

on my soul

and a dark stain on my heart

I spent my life

searching for it

as if to find it again

would be a key

to the past

that may unlock me

and set me free

I look at it now

and my breath catches

and my heart flutters

like a dying bird

and I still cannot fly away

I am as trapped as I was

as a child

tracing every detail in my mind

to blot out

the insanity

of men.



3 thoughts on “The Cross

  1. This is very moving. A depiction between hope and despair, and between good and evil. When evil men do insane things to you, how does a small soul process it? How does a child process that they, in all their innocence, become the object of another humans evil? xx

    Liked by 1 person

    • thank you very much for your comment. The mind is an amazing thing. As a child I had memorized every detail of this cross but forgot the trauma. I have been very drawn to ornamental crosses without realizing why. Now I remember and can process the trauma in therapy and by taking photographs and writing. When we are too young to be able to process such terrible things our minds blot things out or shift the focus onto something else like me with this cross.

      Liked by 1 person

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