Whispers

The refrain was so soft I almost didn’t hear, When the essence of WOMAN sighed in my ear. “It’s safe to go back” were the words that were said, And they roiled in my head while I lay in my bed. So I gave my mind over to this quiet assurance, Passing backward through drapes of practiced endurance. It’s safe to go back. It’s safe to go back. Silently slipping through descendant days, The 90’s and 80’s, a booze soaked haze. The 70’s and 60’s, with no place of my own, Finally the 50’s and my grandmothers home. From a place so unique, empowered, serene, I cast a new sight on the places I’d been. It’s safe to go back. It’s safe to go back. I saw the men strike out in unrighteous rage; And others doing things, so wrong at my age. There is my mother with her alcohol breath, With a pillow on my head, romancing my death. Stern faced women in stiff, white wimples, Me in plaid, burgeoning breasts, and pimples. It’s safe to go back. It’s safe to go back. There’s my grandmother, with switches and belts. There are my legs, all bruises and welts. There’s Cousin Nancy, who thought I was grand, And Grampa, the one who could stay Grandma's hand. It’s safe to go… It’s safe to go … At last to a time, so long ago, Before shame and guilt and the pain I would know, A time I believed in a god in the sky, And Mary Martin convinced me - I really could fly! It’s safe to… It’s safe to… I lay there and saw this and breathed it all in. I melded my past and purged away sin. Love rushed in during a quiet, night hour, And Acceptance took away all of fear's power. It’s safe. It’s safe.