Uraz

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Trauma,
it lives in us all;
those of us who can’t
seem to “get it right,”
seeking love and then
demolishing it once
it’s found- deliberately
as if to fulfil
a prophecy.

Trauma,
it makes you blind,
triggers amnesia.
Watching her cry,
your Madonna,
unable to assist
or turn sad tears
into happy diamonds.

He’s gone,
off working or
something very important
and the strands
of sanity grow feeble.
Backs are turned,
they’re back to back.

But none will take
that step away.
And so it scars,
the invisible kind,
on the ones Madonna
sought to save.

Trauma,
it seeps from
generation to
generation,
repeating again
and again,
a cycle of pain.

Producing avoidants
and addicts
who sit and wonder why,
they can’t seem to
“get it right.”
Each generation laments
the loss, wondering
if love was meant to die?

God and his Madonna,
love higher than could
be touched or understood.
But she was left
in that story- Love
invisible. On faith
alone was child raised.
No- Saviour. To save
Madonna and us all.

But a child
born to save creator,
doesn’t make for
stable patterns. So
trauma builds and births
still more avoidants
and addicts who sentence
the other to a deeper Hell
as they try to hide
unseen scars,

looking for victims,
looking for an escape car.

Oh if Madonna never cried,
or yelled…or sought her
God somewhere far, then
we might believe that
Love could live in
faith alone.

But she did cry,
and yell and other things
so now we roam,
bearing burdens
not our own.

Seeking our prey,
too blind to heal…
Avoidant seeks Addict
and Addict falls fast
and bears another child,
…no, saviour…

Trauma reborn.

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