When it comes to life we hurt, we feel pain, depending on our experiences, some more than others, some less. Then childhood trauma has particular consequences all its own.
This is my story. Rather, this was my story. I didn’t want it to become my lifetime.
This is a little book for all of us that are united in a silence of shame, for when one of us finds our voice then we can all sing.
This is a little book of forgiveness.
This is a little book of hope.
The Drowning
A store cupboard memory
You towering above me,
mouth twisted, carrying the
rictus of power and hatred.
At five years old my only foibles
were an inquisitive mind and the
ungainly knack of catching you
in your moments of ramifying callousness.




