In the beginning, terrifying darkness reigned and found easy entry into me.
My angels jumped to and battened down the hatches.
Invisible rays, body/mind closures and blanking*, kept me relatively safe and sound,
in those early years.
*Blanking: When I felt threatened by someone, I’d blink and blank them out.
We’d still laugh and talk and do stuff together, but your existence would be vacant to me.
Children protect themselves with the gifts they possess.
Some of mine were little elves, Purple Mountain Majesties, forests so vast there was no finding me.
I’d hear distant cries and screams, that sounded like me, but somehow was not.
The little elves and I ate buttered popcorn and watched a funny movie about a gopher family traveling west.
When HE said, “Put your clothes on and join the family”, I’d smile,
pull my clothes on over the bloodied welts and join the family.
Every telling/reading/revealing/making-up an event after it has occurred is a story. Ask yourself, “How many stories have I shared with others?”.