Survivors' Voices: Triggers, Part 4

I want to highlight one more powerful submission from a survivor on the topic of triggers - a beautiful untitled poem written by a friend who wishes to remain anonymous.

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squirrels, rain, sunlight, rocks, snow flakes, sandals, beaches, morning
iris, roses, music, twilight, coffee, beer, dinner, blenders, soap, socks
our dining room table, the street where we live, sidewalks, parks, my favorite trail
my tears, my Mass, my Church, chrism, ordination, adoration, eucharist, the incense I love
vestments, ministries, purple
pews, people, angels, Mary, feast days, liturgical seasons, prayers...
motherhood, childhood, my husband, my children, my grandchildren, my son's priestly vocation...
my journals, counseling, spiritual direction
my life
he was in our life
he was the pastor of our church...
there was nowhere I could get away
there was nowhere I could go where he had not been
there was nothing that he had not touched

I had to learn to reclaim my life as mine
to somehow not weep when the sun shone or when it rained
or when I received the Eucharist

I had to somehow stop the shame

so I cried a lot
I felt every feeling
the mad and the sad, the hurt and the stupid
every squirrel that scurried by me in the park, I cursed
every tear that fell when it rained, I allowed
I
felt
the
hurt

and every morning when I awoke still alive
I said a simple thank you, Lord
You alone know I would rather not be

so another day I will live
and I will trust You
to bring me through
to bring back meaning
to bring understanding
to bring forgiveness
to bring hope
to bring love

and after all this time
I understand my self more than I ever have in my entire life
I understand that this life is a great gift...to me...and those I love
it is mine...given by the One who alone can give and take away
no matter what has been done or what I have done
I am alive
I am loved

I am grateful for the sunshine again, I bring flowers in to my home
the rain no longer makes me cry

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