The Well

Once I hit my brother and a pain filled my throat,

Bursting from inside my chest, from a hole.

He ran to tell my parents and silence filled the yard.

I stood there knowing there was no escape.

The welling inside a child when he knows he’s to blame.

The dread of the validation of his shame.

The welling dread of a dwelling head.

Who was I when I decided to be me instead?

Stinging past sings tempting paths,

In a time between sin and wrath.

I remember the garden breeze,

Whispering, “Where are you?”

Through the trees.

6 thoughts on “The Well

  1. I think that those kind of moments can sometimes define who we are to become in the future. Sometimes, those moments teaches us the truth about a hidden side of ourselves that we are afraid to see or to acknowledge.

    Liked by 1 person

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