DIARY

You long to convey
those imprisoned, suppressed memories
lurking at the back of your mind
needing to be freed, unshackled
before they gnaw you.

So you scribble
letting each thought, each feeling
flow through every word
hoping that the load be carved,
left on a piece of paper.

Yet your panting remains unquenched
the expression is bleak, incomplete
You want a listener, a reader
who would think about your thoughts
and feel with you.

Yet you want to conceal
that hideous, corrupted shadow
dreading to be condemned and junked
even by your most trusted friend in life.

And the torture
you imaged, imagined a trusted being
A being who will understand and accept you
listen to you, feel with you
and give you life again.

Next time
Scribble not the Dear Diary
Scribble Dear God,
Dear Father…..

By: Maurine Pattal