Indigo Girl

Left alone

to my own devices,

my brain relives

memories of a time

when I was a babe,

not so unlike Dickens’ Oliver –

seen and

not heard.

That wilted little wretch

that was too much

of a painful reminder

for Demeter and

a stepfather’s jealousy; both

spurning their contempt

for an indigo child

that didn’t toe

the line.

She dug in her heels,


to surrender

her heart to a stranger.

Hades was larger than life

roaming the dark halls,

casting shadows

wherever he went.

She learned

to survive by making

herself invisible, sobbing

tears into her pillow

in a make-shift sanctuary

she cocooned

herself in.

It was here

she found solace

in the darkness

amongst the catacombs

of grey matter,


those great halls

in search of that

elusive light

that would lead

her back home.

Out of sight and

out of body

while the carnage

spilled into her room

with no windows –


with no cracks

to crawl inside

to hide.

It was here

she learned to take


settling in

amongst the skulls and

crossbones lining

the walls; a mosaic

of Dante’s Inferno

guiding the way.

It was here,

she learned to pray

for forgiveness

to an unknown God

in an unknown time

and place.



she learned her name

was Dib – a reincarnate

of Persephone,

and the realisation

there was no escape

from Death.

11 Typical Unintentional Behaviors of Emotionally Hurt People
© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved