Though sinners’ souls are shriven clear,
the ravished aren’t restored.
The Good News turns to Bad News near
the raped, abused, or whored.
Most kids like me kept mum, for fear
that ill repute would smite us.
But unhealed traumas reappear.
The past comes back to bite us.
Two decades on, I told the dear,
kind man that I adored.
The bits he couldn’t bear to hear
he said could be ignored.
We waited—faithful, chaste, sincere—
for marriage to unite us.
But unhealed traumas reappear.
The past comes back to bite us.
Once wed, we scrimmaged, set to cheer
the moment that we scored,
but childhood trauma’s souvenir
had blocked me like a board.
Halfway through our fourth wed year,
my body ceased to fight us.
But unhealed traumas reappear.
The past comes back to bite us.
Like phosphorus, some harms adhere.
We tidy their detritus,
but unhealed traumas reappear.
The past comes back to bite us.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Christie’s Compelling Criminals
In the latest installment of the ongoing interview series with contributing editor Mark Bauerlein, Theodore Dalrymple joins…
Lethe
He thought he saw her in the orchid houseand all the flowers seemed to disappear,but someone with…
On Suddenly Having Several Children
God never gives us more than we can take,”the midwife told us, after catching two—two—heartbeats in your…
