Letters from Home
rhino Photo by Francesco Ungaro from Pexels

Some Babies are Rhinos

What is my fault? This is the question
I wonder about often as I
Let the Cymbalta slide down
My throat. What am I to blame for?

What can I lay to rest — what
Outbursts and frenzies
That erupted from me
When my mind was
Rubbed raw by discontentment
And curdled in its own
Mad science experiment?

How many years did I walk the
Tightrope of self discovery,
One day forgiving myself
One day adorning myself
One day battering myself
One day hiding from myself
All for the same reason.

Do you ever wonder about the
Dragon? As her fire
Scorches the hillside,
Burning down castles
It is also tossing her
Dreams to nightmares
Violence that makes her
Cry herself to sleep?

Some babies are born
Rhinos. Some babies are
Born bunnies. Some
Snort and trumpet their wild way —
Others are silent and
Shivering under the wing.

When on the occasion of
Growing up and growing older
We find ourselves still entangled in
The night terrors, in wet bedsheets,
With wrong brains, or cycling in trauma–
How do we ever find our way?
When brokenness is always
The wrong direction on a
One way street?

Day 8 of 30 Day Challenge from Poet Jen Harris and Writing Workshop Kansas City

Prompt: What do you know about reacting?

 

“When we react, we forfeit our personal power to think, feel and behave in our own best interests.”

– Melody Beattie, Codependent No More

6 thoughts on “Some Babies are Rhinos

  1. You can never get used to the shock of discovering you are going the wrong way on a one way street. Always jarring. Perfect first line, perfect last line. Truest middle.

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