Childhood trauma is not easily remembered. Fear of being punished for speaking the truth keeps it locked away. But, sharing the truth with others can help us all to heal. The world is a better place when we speak the truth.

Where do I begin to tell the story of my life?
I dis-remembered everything,
locked it up in tiny boxes.
I dis-membered all that I am,
broken into shattered pieces- hundreds? No, thousands.

If I tell you all I know, will you laugh?
Will you gasp and gape in horror?
Or, will you turn away in fear?
Will you cry in secret remembering?
Or, will you try to forget again, denying and pretending?

I will tell my story when it's time,
when the secret can be freed.
For the horror cannot be understood by you,
the unaware and the un-initiated still waiting in the road.
I will tell my story in a dark place,
only words in the space between us,
where we falter, where we come to be home
and on the way to peace.

After all is said and I lay down my sword,
I will summon to my side all who stood by me
in this place, in this memory,
and we will join hands, singing out the truth,
never to be hid again, bringing down the curtain
to the ground where it is burned.

No one, no one should have to know what I know
this secret is too awful.
But, it is a tale that must be told.
No one, no one should ever have to be
what I needed to be: the keeper of this secret,
too awful for the innocent,
too horrid for this day.

I will stand upon the mountain singing to the world.
I will hold my hands up high for the wind to catch my praises.
I will shout into the glory of all that I have known.
I will welcome all the secrets, all the haunting that I've known
For it is time, though it is not the place.
It is time. The secret comes to light.
Let it be so!