flash: BLUE

Her first birthday. My husband picked out her gift, a fuzzy blue blanket. When it arrived memories of my own blue childhood blanket trickled in. We were inseparable. Everywhere I went it came trailing behind me. Even in college, I kept it hidden in the back of my closet. I couldn’t let go. As I watch my daughter curl her little fingers around her now beloved blankie, I find I long for that same sense of security. For her it’s a symbol of the love and comfort of us, her family. Something I lost long ago. I ache for that peace. That ease of consolation. The family that came with it. Maybe for my daughter it will be different. Maybe she will never know what I have known. Maybe I can offer what I was never given. Over the years, I have learned to cope on my own, grieve on my own, heal on my own. I hope one day she will look back with fond memories on this blue blanket. And that for her it will always hold a place of security, and will never have to be a little girl’s shield from an unforgiving world.


*this is a piece of flash memoir that was published on the blog Lost Paper

Inside Out

sins of the flesh
her illness
becoming mine


speaking in tongues
my rite
of prostitution


visions of jesus
no one suspects


bible study
we learn how not
to feel


closed doors
all the little lies
i told


heavy breathing
he tells me
it’s the lord’s will


i contemplate


the way he says
“God bless”


my pastor waits
for payment


our last sermon
I let
the devil win


Scryptic: a magazine of dark art – Issue 1.2: September 2017

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