(Written for actress, activist and author Mackenzie Phillips after her appearance at the Institute on Violence Abuse and Trauma Conference on September 6, 2018)
with elegance and grace
she speaks of the disgrace
the loss of “who I am”
the masks of who we’ve been
with truth and honesty
she plants the seed of purity
the spark that leads to flame
no longer carrying the shame
she cares not how long it took
she is, as always, an open book
since 18, working hard to free
“something devastatingly wrong with me”
nothing Ritalin, coke or drugs could cure
to carry on – wanting something sure
needing others to say she’s OK, a church without a steeple
finding out … hurt people hurt people
a missing father figure in a physical form
untreated narcissism, substance abuse – a perfect storm
they were mad at her for telling what he did
protecting the perpetrator, keeping it all hid
a victim silenced, don’t say anything
high on arrival … becomes hopeful healing
the realization she is her mother’s daughter, no less
she need not identify with the ugly and the darkness
she could choose who she is to be
finding the identity of the one … “it’s me”
no longer desperate to be believed
not needing someone to be furious at … now relieved
forgiveness isn’t about cosigning, nor about not being pissed
it’s reclaiming the you that you’ve dearly missed
with joy, light, elegance and grace
she speaks of a past disgrace
the retrieval of “who I really am”
the release of what has never been
the spark that ignites the highest flame
no one will ever be the same
it matters not how long it takes
the book and the door is open, for all our sake
since a child, she has worked hard to set free
the one heart, the one soul … sweet Mackenzie