October 18, 2020
Continued from Act 1. Scene 1. “Other People’s Words”
The Dark Light of the Soul
She awoke with a start.
“Where am I?” Allowing her eyes a moment to adjust to the pale moonlight shining on her new surroundings, “I’ve been writing in my sleep again. And my bladder is full! Now. Where is the bathroom?”
Careful not to trip ove—“Ooh ouch! That’s going to leave a reminder” boxes full of memories waiting to be rediscovered, “I won’t soon forget.” Rising up from her knees, feeling along the wall, “Here we are.” Sitting down on the commode, “Ahh, relief.”
Alone in the dark recalling her dream, “So tell me about you. What’s your name?”
Hi. My name is Nina. I was abused as a child. Emotionally. Sexually. Severely.
This may account for some of the more bizarre behaviors I displayed growing up.
“See how they run…”
I was a fool to think you could ever love me broken and damaged as I am. Never could I ever fill your image of me…as much as I wanted to be…to please you.
I don’t remember when it started.
He would come late at night into my room—quietly,
So as not to disturb me. And
As if in a dream
I would find myself
As I am now
On the commode
Panties around my ankles.
It all seemed so perfectly innocent until
One day I learned
The awful truth.
She came bursting through the door horrified at the scene—
Screaming at us
That same day I lost
That same day my family relocated to Hell.
And there was I raised, trained in secrecy
To hide my family’s shame.
What more would you like to know about me?
My name is Nina and I am in recovery
My family’s shame.
I am learning to unlearn the damage that was done—It is finished! And in me
The cycle of abuse is broken…
You may love me
Or leave me
I don’t take it personally. After all
Most of us are simply human
While some of us are gods.
But who can escape judgment day?
I don’t ask for your sympathy or your understanding.
I hope you
What life in
I don’t speak now for myself because
Even as I speak
There is one who is
And one who is
Both lives broken.
And somewhere there is one who thinks her life no longer matters—but these words won’t reach her in time.
Hold on. Your life IS a miracle. You matter. You will see.
And here I am alone reaching into
The dark light of my soul
Pulling up my big girl pants
Reclaiming what was lost,
Re-visioning my self in
Your divine image:
Good morning. My name is Nina and these words won’t write themselves.
Thank you for reading.