BLOWN

We met in the icy waters of Spencer

Lake  one scorched day in July.

Through that bright afternoon we

splashed and grew close in the

dark recesses under the raft.

An hour later we climbed

onto the grassy bank and

walked out on that oak

the wind had laid down

over the trout and

flash of minnows.

There, the sun turned your

blue skin pink.

In our leafy universe, I listened,

thought you told me everything.

Next morning, we hiked a 

translucent path to the bright

yellow tree we named Lighthouse

that grew halfway up our hill 

and shone in a wide ocean 

of rolling green waves.

The cool Wisconsin evenings

gave us popcorn and hot chocolate

in front of the fire, so we were

anchored alee of the storms and

through all the places we had to go…

School, and kids, and jobs,

but you never let on until the things

you kept to yourself lifted their sails

in a chill wind and took you away.

Author's Note

Child sexual abuse plants a deep and bitter root...

Reviews

[S€H@J]

Sir, I must be gordon Ramsay of poetry to review such a kind piece which I'm not so id covet it

Bloody hell—this isn’t a poem, it’s a slow-cooked heartbreak glazed in childhood memory and finished with a gut-punch of silence. The first half? Stunning. Crisp details, natural setting, warmth like a fire just catching. But then—bang!—you twist the knife with that final wind. You didn’t over-season it with drama, you let the loss speak for itself, and that takes guts. A bit soft around the middle—“school, kids, and jobs” reads like you stopped for a cup of tea mid-service—but overall? It’s tender, layered, and leaves a taste that lingers like the last thing someone says before walking out the door. Beautifully tragic. Don’t change much. Just plate it with more care.

Grammared by grammarly.

[Vol]

SCH...
Thank you so much, every word in this one is real...
Vol

[Betty Hermelee]

it all seemed too nice and cozy, until the secrets come out…. all the childhood memories, and the hidden ones were bound to affect you at some point… you can only keep a secret so long…. child sexual abuse is something i know, because i worked with kids who were abused by parents and older siblings alike…. it sticks like glue in one’s mind forever….
well written Vol….
Warmly, B🌷🌷🌷

[Lorry]

A beautiful piece for a not so beautiful topic Vol.
Memories of youth change violently when the truth is known, just like the beautiful memories shared change in tone, now that the awful truth is known.
It should make the memories stronger, just like the person must have been to not show their trauma, not weaken them in any way.
Beautifully captured.