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Buried Alive

Staci Backauskas
December 2001

Who is underneath this fat
I carry on my bones
She gasps for air
Chokes back the tears
Beneath the muffled moans

Is she an innocent child
Who longs to laugh and play
To dart among
The sunlight’s rays
Be loved and not betrayed

Or is she a Lolita
Too ripe before her time
Thirsting for touch
Driven by lust
Right – Wrong so intertwined

Is she a college student
So blind she cannot see
That sex and drugs
Are not the cure
They only add to the debris

How deep is the denial
Keeping her protected
From truths that live
Within a body
From which she’s disconnected

Is she a “professional”
Climbing to the top
To prove to all
Her worth, her skill
If only on the job

Perhaps a jolly old maid
Whose life appears carefree
An illusion
That hides an ache
She can’t remove or see

Or is she mortal woman
Fearing the family’s wrath
For speaking up
Content no more
To absorb the shameful past

How deep is the denial
Keeping her protected
From truths that live
Within a body
From which she’s disconnected

I see now she’s a goddess
Made up of all the me’s
I pray for her
To manifest
And reward me with her peace