Sentimental Journey
We were swimming when my daughter asked
About the scar hidden at the back of my leg.
I wanted to answer truthfully,
But it was so hard to remember
What I spent years trying to forget.
A house that was never a home,
Just the place my dreams went to die.
The abuse suffered by such a lonely boy,
The wire hangers that would tear at my flesh.
The many tears that refused to fall.
The torture hidden behind the civil lies.
Once my father was gone the love died.
All the empty Christmas mornings spent alone
When the house was kept bare,
It wasn’t that we were ever poor,
Mother just didn’t care.
It wasn’t that we didn’t have faith,
It was just always busy elsewhere.
My daughter listens through her blue tears.
She had always thought that memories
Were meant to be a sentimental journey.
In less than a minute I had killed that lie.
My son was too young to fully understand
But something moved him to take my hand.
I saw myself in his soft brown eyes,
Felt the comfort of his large heart.
I didn’t even know I was crying
Or how much my yesterdays still hurt.
As my son held my hand I felt my past
Finally being laid to rest,
“I love you” was all that was said.