It’s not enough to be; exist, persist.
It’s not enough to simply reside,
to show the disparate parts and pieces of myself in unseemly display
or gather them close, hidden inside
Like the shameful secrets I’m told they
The past is a path we travel to the people we become.
Life must have meaning, cause, purpose.
Family. Friends. Husband, child, mother, son. Sister, daughter, spouse.
Wallflowers fading from photographs, erased from history
I cannot erase my past
My past erases me