I was a carefree child who played in the warmth of the sun. But her glow and mine have dimmed. At night, after he has finished with me, the moon sends her light to comfort me. Cold comfort. Still, she guides me now, lighting a pearlescent path for me, tangled and silver like the scars that trace my body, but leading me to freedom. I’ve killed him, and though he took my innocence, he can no longer hurt me. My past, present, and future merge—who I was and who I will become. I am broken, but not destroyed. One day, I may glow again, like the sun.
The moon saw sorrow
her tears, silver waves of hope
to light the darkness
Credit Line: John G. Johnson Collection, 1917 Philadelphia Museum of Art
This haibun is a late entry for Colleen Chesebro’s weekly poetry challenge. The prompt words were past and…
View original post 44 more words