Thursday, April 7, 2011

a thousand sorry's

You've known her and you've loved her and you've wondered,

[because of your own brokenness]

if her strong arms and fierce independence have come from pushing back the weight of secret doors


for so many years.

You wait and you pray and you trust your God with his daughter

and then a tipping point is reached

and she decides she no longer wants the fight.




She lets loved ones in, come down the stairs, watch your step in these shadows,

this place,

where no light has shone.

Secret Dwelling. 

And then she says you can come in, too

and you step gingerly [you don't deserve to be trusted like this]

and you turn the corner

and you see it, there.




You weep for the innocence lost. You weep for the years she spent, sentenced to this dungeon, shouldering the atrocities all alone. You weep because you cannot undo it. You weep because a thousand I'm sorry's cannot remove the stench of evil. You weep hot tears whose cries for justice drown out mercy's voice.

For a later time, books and counseling, wisdom from the healing road and prayer will all find their place, will each take their turn. She'll take even bolder steps away from this place, Savior's hand held tight.

For now, Silence and Sadness are the only welcomed friends.

For now, a thousand sorry's. 


  1. ....

    april, this is haunting. you capture it perfectly.

  2. This is so true of so many secrets we hold, secrets those around us hold. Sometimes we are the one walking into the dungeon of a friend, sometimes we are the ones letting others into ours.

    Hauntingly beautiful.

  3. Oh, Jesus, be there and be real. Hot tears for her and for you. Heartfelt prayers, too.

  4. wow... such deep emotional words. This could be anyone who has lived with secrets and pain... yes silence sometimes is the healing balm where no words can ever touch.

  5. april... there is such depth here. you speak every mother's fear... the fear of not being able to fix, of not being able to love enough. oh Lord, be our arms, our words, our lives, so healing might begin. (a thousand thank you's, for this, april)

  6. The thing about poetry I'm finding is that the reader doesn't always get the "it" from the poem - but a good poem always leaves an "it" with the reader. I know darkness, I don't know this darkness - but darkness is still dark, and the dungeon oppressive - and I feel the heart in these words. I do. God Bless and Keep you - thank you for this.

  7. A thousand sorry's for the parent's negligence, who at the first pain of panic, dismissed her 5-year-old's story as...mis-communication, exaggeration or an accident in children's play.
    A thousand sorry's for the mother's cowardice in not facing the "pure horror" of her child's very real and literal violation.
    A thousand sorry's that the God-given guardian did not press in to listen, defend, seek out the perpetrator and his punishment; who let her daughter's justice fail.
    A thousand sorry's for allowing a young girl's tender heart to bear the weight, confusion and shame, alone for so many years.
    I AM sorry, April, so sorry and ask your forgiveness again.
    I love and cherish you so much. Continue your healing, quickly and completely. I wish I could finish it for you.

    Forever, your loving mother.