No one knew about the beatings or saw the ugly bruises. Her family never heard the cruel hard-fisted words he used to break her spirit. He hurled them at her over and over again through the open willing windows of her soul until they knocked her quite outside herself…senseless and empty.Her friends sometimes winced, but discretely looked away as he verbally cut her, slicing her with sharply spoken glass shard attacks that stripped her to the bone…completely naked and bare.

No one knew that she waited, wounded and bleeding inside,  expecting the next time. She learned to hide the terror, conceal her horror, and mask the abuse with made-up stories. Smiling thin convincing smiles, she deflected questions she did not want to answer, quickly changing  subjects so that she could listen to others instead of revealing her story.  

No one knew she didn’t dare sleep soundly in her own home..sometimes hiding when he drank…propping herself into a corner… shielding half of herself against a gray plaster wall. But that night she drifted off for a few minutes, dreaming of escape and freedom... and when she awoke she knew what to do: she would end her despair by giving up hope... embracing her pain and an ending. 

Half  past midnight, she poised on a narrow window sill, whispering toward whatever heaven might be: “Forgive me, Oh sweet Whoever-Father, Mother, Spirit God. Catch me as I am – wounded, weary and wanting.  I am no one here,” she smiled. “…but surely, I am yours.” As wind wiped away her tears, she stretched out… leaning into the edge of her emptiness before launching herself with all that remained... out toward the lemon moon. Her laughter leapt skyward - hanging itself on the highest evening star. Soaring aloft to unknown possibilities she flew toward a permanent solution… abandoning sorrow and fear…throwing her life far away into never again.

No one knew what she endured or what she carried, nor could they imagine…until the weight of her truth came crashing down to earth… landing squarely upon the broken shoulders of those she’d left behind. Then they, the walking wounded, wondered for days, months, years…beating themselves with endless questions…what ifs and if only’s… before understanding the raw reality and the message of her imagined madness. Regardless of their loving, they had never really seen her… and no one really knew her at all.