Absolution


Smack!
I'm so alive,
so grateful,
even
in
and for
pain.

Smack!
Oh, thank you, daddy,
thank you for
touching me,
even in anger,
reminding me I'm
so alive.

Smack!
I'm so grateful,
grateful I'm alive,
grateful I'm so alive
I can feel
callouses
of yours
on naïve flesh
of mine,
grateful
I'm so alive
I can stay conscious
long enough
to will myself
not to cry,
I can will myself
not to shatter
on impact
like a cheap, wet, sloppy ripened fruit,
not to make a mess,
not to inflict on
you
my
weakness, not to give you
something
so you have to give me
something
to cry
about.

I know how you got those callouses --
diapering
feeding
stroking
cleaning,
now teaching
now revealing
now avenging.

No --
not the belt --
every lash
shears off a little piece
of us
the us of blood, of tears
the us of knowledge
more carnal
than conception.

Don't
oh please don't
use the
belt --
your hand,
our connection
now.
If you don't use your hand,
how will you touch me,
how will I feel you
if you
do not touch
me
yourself
but use
an instrument
to make me feel
your
-- love?

Oh --
Smack!
I'm so alive,
I can feel the sting,
the anger
of what is not
alive.

Ah --
Smack!
I am so grateful,
grateful
I can exist
past
now,
I can
survive
long enough
to be
grateful.

But how
can I forgive
myself
for driving
you
away?

Can pain
make me
clean?

by Sara, copyright 1999, all rights reserved