LIBERATION
People say they are sorry when I tell them he died last December.
It’s only natural to say that, but I say ‘don’t worry I’m not sorry’.
(That’s not what they expect me to say)
I’m not sorry, it was time. It wasn’t Covid. I tell them.
There are things I can’t unlearn, images that don’t make sense
That offend and create dissonance. I think all sense of self restraint was going or gone.
Self-control waning, primal urges and instincts surfacing without boundaries.
That take away a person’s dignity, and a person’s identity – he wasn’t the same person.
Thank God. Nor am I.
And yet he was – on the inside.
Things too shocking to imagine.
And then there’s the secret bank account where he hid money from me.
That is not a good feeling. That is really where the ‘I’m not sorry’ is coming from.
Im not sorry he’s gone and can’t hurt me any more.
I am damaged – but now I can heal.
Now begins the new clean page. I don’t smell of fear any more.
Life after people can be liberating, with very little grief.