Not My Fault

My inner child has been crying for a long time,
bearing sorrow too large for him to carry.

He tried to weep it out
but he could not: it was not his.

It was not my fault.
I was just a child.

The memory came like a thunderbolt:
I could see her face through the water
as she held me down.

Now I know why I screamed
when mama tried to teach me to swim.
Now I know why anger of women made me panic.

I am free.