Mama gave me life. Daddy gave me nature. He said to me on the front steps, the day he left, when I was twelve: “this is a sick sad family”

Dear grief,

I know anger, sadness, disappointment, guilt, and shame, shadow shit I have turned my back on & hidden. Are you like them?

who let this happen please see me please see me  & now you are dead.

red tagged house deemed uninhabitable by local authorities due to compromised structure

it is unsafe

high priestess teaches the four principles: 

whenever it begins is the right time to begin 

whoever is present are the right ones to witness it 

whatever happens is the only possible outcome 

when it is over it is the right way to end

she also teaches the five qualities: to gather expand contract disperse transform

this is lost on the postal worker alone at the counter who assists 

everyone in line with everything

most of us had not completed the packing and labeling in a compliant way

postal worker alone at the counter provides office supplies 

and guidance to each of us as needed

lined up at the post office in a daydream it dawns on me 

to be safe is to cut back on bludgeoning myself with shame

a voice whispers to me: you forgot to love yourself? don’t hate yourself over it

the voice is my voice saying:

integrate the loathing with the compassion 

remember the shadow shit those old distortions and projections: 

gather expand contract disperse transform

How, though? 

the inner voice whispers: open the door and let in self-forgiveness

you used to redirect the blows deflecting projecting loathing onto others 

targets for your own arrows

notice what disgust 

made you say and do both inward and outward I write another message to a feeling:

Hello disgust, 

I see you. Why do you visit me? 

This time, disgust, you must remain at the threshold 

& give me space to understand your message.

Oh, initiate! As you ground yourself with feet on the grass, look within and know 

you exist and matter, and then a voice, my voice, intones: 

I reflect the truth and value of my Self 

& I light the silver candle & I take a step back to observe the bitter loathing 

& disgust plasma projecting 

inward and outward 

no longer blindsided 

with emotional busy work 

by anger masquerading as truth.

In a future dream, the postal worker alone at the counter will hand me this certified letter:

Dear sad self,

I didn’t used to know how to be present for you. I have learned that life is a gift, even in sad times.

Now I travel to inner and outer realms where I meet a winged and hoofed chimera who bucks and soars through air, water and lightning, cloud and fire. I know if I offer it a red apple, harness it, I will ride sidesaddle, singing my own praises, far away to where crystal springs meander to the sea, over the mount of the Muses & will travel where flying horses defeat worldly impediments

at ease at ease at ease holding the reins in hand so if the horse strays I can guide it back to the sky path ascending above grass 

& granite to forgive the loathing 

& let go of the disgust.

Deborah C. Segal is a 2024 Pushcart Prize nominee. She is in the process of editing a slim volume of her confessional poetry: The Telling, to be released in 2026.

Follow her at anotherseagull.wordpress.com

Her publications include:

Fool’s Apprentice, 2025, (Keeping the Flame Alive)

In the Time of the Cloud, 2024 (Another Seagull Productions)

Edwin in the Embrace of Entropy, 2022 (Another Seagull Productions)

Borderlands and Lines, 2022 (Another Seagull Productions)

Natalie’s Story: A Raincheck for Jack Kerouac, 2013 (Mel C. Thompson Productions)