Sovereign Souls: Whosoever Edition

Preface: Snowflakes Harmonia’s chapter 1 ~ Trigger Warning ~ For lack of understanding within families; conversion therapy Snowflakes madly swirling Dancing in the dark Whiteness landing upon my bare skin with biting Cold, one after another until I quake Shake, and shiver all alone Thrown out, abandoned "Jeremiah!" My father yelled, as he abandoned Any pretense of calm, arms swirling As he moved to throw me outdoors, alone Into the inky midnight's dark He kept my clothes, so here I quake While the snowflakes continue their biting The cold is sharp, but it's the bite Of his words that make me feel abandoned So I shake, shiver, and quake My ebony body curled amid the swirling Blizzard, atop the splintering picnic table in the dark My buttocks freezing to the tabletop, alone If only I were not so alone If only people's words were not so biting If only the days and nights were not so dark If only I did not feel so abandoned If only these snowflakes would stop swirling If only my entire universe had not undergone a quake Conversion therapy caused me to quake The priests and pastors made me feel alone Telling me I was dirty and wrong, ‘til emotions swirling I felt the depths of their words biting Scarring psyche and soul; I was abandoned All alone in the basement room in the dark But now I sit out in the dark For I failed to reform, so I quake; It's outside in winter I've been abandoned My family threw me out here naked and alone And these snowflakes on my skin are biting I’m only seventeen, yet I need to be reborn; my emotions are swirling. In the dark, call me Harmonia and I'll be swirling Into joy, no need to quake, nothing biting No longer abandoned, I'll be me; alive and alone. Chapter One: On the Road Harmonia’s chapter 2 Closing the door, I set my leather purse on the floor, With a twist of my wrist, Consuela, my 1985 Celica Supra purrs to life, Everything I own is in the back seat As it has been since the morning I left home With what I was allowed to carry out, the one paper grocery sack Weighty with my piggy bank, art supplies, toiletries, and dreams For a future free to be Harmonia. My dreams Included not ever waking up again on the floor, After being struck down by daddy's little gunny sack Of birdshot. Think lead-filled tube sock, swung hard; that's no life For me. That's not a place to call home, Not really. Though I did. Now it's the back seat Of my trusty, rusty car. It's no smooth bench but her back seat Will do. It's where I rest and hatch my dreams Under the glittering stars in this Walmart parking lot, my home For tonight. I keep my valuables on the floor Under my coat. Those sketchbooks are my life's Journal, and the pencils, charcoal, and Cray-pas in the sack Are my lifeline, my link to sanity. The bulging sack Hunkers beside the sketchbooks, now stacked separately, as I lie across the back seat Trying to find a comfortable position. I tell myself, "Life Is funny in how it allows you to finally realize dreams." I think back to waking up on or just getting up from the floor, So many times. Thanks parents, I think, I'm glad to be shed of your "home." Now I've got to think about more than just this mobile home, Find a well-paying job from which I won't get the sack Perhaps find a friend with a roof who'll let me sleep on the floor. For some nights it gets so cold in this back seat That images of icicles and icebergs dominate my dreams. Even the quilted picnic blanket from the hatchback isn't enough to warm life Into this not-well-padded body. Which, I might add, is a work of art. No, life Is doing her best to keep my journey interesting. And, home Is wherever Consuela and I park for the night, where dreams Are dreamt as the stars pass in the night sky. My sack Of groceries, mostly sardines and crackers, some trail mix and dried fruit, is on the back seat. Wonder how long before I need to shop again? Last I recall, the bank, now safe on the floor Held $97.13. Can I fund dreams with that? Or should I look to the sack To fuel my new life, where nights make the back seat Home, a shelter where I safely don't ever wake up on the floor.