Tag Archive: poetry


One Single Tear (part one)

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March 8, 2011

   I will spare only one tear for you.  I dare not open the floodgates of my emotion lest the onslaught destroy me in a vortex of fear and self-loathing.  You are naught but a ghost.  I killed you that day.  I watched you die.  In desperation, I drove the knife home and I watched you writhe in agony with a bitter smile on my face.  I strove to destroy you, dear child…but not without reason.  I destroyed you to save you, that perhaps some small remnant of the girl you were could survive, pristine.

    I was a fool to attempt this.  I will never escape you.  You are soiled and ugly.  You are a protector of wrong, defender of evil.  You cause hurt to come upon others.  You have no pity. Stupid child. Pitiful creature.  To know you is to loathe you.  To despise your very existence.  Whore that you are, finding joy in your torture, enlisting the pity of others to aid in your healing.  You will never be free.  You live only to suffer, die only to rot.

    I did not bury you that day.  I torment myself with the knowledge of my deed.  My failure to eradicate you will haunt me forever.  You are the ghost that haunts my dreams.  You are the demon who terrorizes my waking hours.  You are my hell, my prison I have created and I cannot break free.  I hate you, unclean thing that you are.  I am locked in here with you-my tormentor. 

    I shed only one tear for you.  You will spend my whole life dyeing.  I spare only one tear for you because you will rape my soul forever.  You will rape my soul forever.

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Gaping Hole

Filed under: Healing — 2 Comments
March 6, 2011

I was taking a shower today and staring at the shower head thinking about the time we had to change it. Then I suddenly remembered that there was a huge gaping hole on the other side of the wall.  Changing this shower head was supposed to be simple… just unscrew the old one then screw the new one in place.  Like most things in life it got complicated quickly.  After trial and error we had to cut a large access hole into wall in the adjoining room to repair the problem.   These repairs were taking place at about 9pm on a Sunday which meant we didn’t have much time to get the job properly done before we had to give up on it for the night and just rig it up and go to bed.  Well now a month has passed and I had managed to completely forget that this huge hole existed.  As long as the shower functioned properly and I didn’t have to look at the hole it was not a part of my reality.  This became a metaphor for my life…  I find that as long as I am functioning on a day to day level –  as long as I can go to work, pay my bills, put dinner on the table, clean my kitchen, spend time with my husband – as long as I can do these things I fool myself into thinking that the gaping hole in my chest doesn’t exist.  Then something horrible happens… something wonderful… my husband looks at me and says, “You don’t have to pretend here.”  And I am suddenly aware of this wound.  I feel it and allow myself to be broken for a moment.  Just that small reminder that I am seen, that I don’t have to hide… It’s painful and wonderful at the same time.  I usually don’t allow myself to feel this pain.  I just gloss over it and pretend to be ok, to be happy.  Something amazing happens in the middle of it all, though… Through the safe release of this pain… I find that under it I really am happy… that I really do believe everything will be ok eventually and I don’t have to rush through this healing process… I can give myself permission to be.  There is so much grace in that realization.

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-Untitled-

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March 1, 2011

An unfathomable sadness

has settled over me

blanket-like.        

Its pain sears my chest

like a hot knife,

scarring.

I shrink away from words

and faces – I shrink

to you…

You-awaiting me beyond shadows

waiting in secret

my love.

In need of somewhere to settle

my restless emotions

ceaselessly search.

Longing for understanding

I cry out

(in despair)

I cry out silently and hear

my fears echoing

about me.

In an agonizing torment

I realize I am

 alone.

Why this sad loneliness

this dull ache

these tears?

I should rejoice in your love –

instead I weep

I weep.

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Anger (free verse)

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February 27, 2011

 

Long ago, when I lay at your feet and whimpered beneath your touch I dared to dream of freedom. Never then did the thought of vengeance enter my mind. Your breath in my face tasted like death and the touch of your skin was beyond pain. The smell of you engulfed me, sickened, revolted me, and still I lived on. You are the disease that threatened to destroy me, but I am stronger than you … and wiser. I even smiled when you looked at me, showed you my best side. I knew it was pointless to dream, but dream I did. Daily I dreamed of freedom. Now I taste the clean air and feel the sun kiss my skin. The wind caresses my body and plays with my hair. I breathe in the scent of flowers and grass. I pity you now, in your dark cell. Now that I am free, freedom has become your dream. loneliness is your nightmare. The heavens no longer kiss you, the wind no longer loves you. You will never hear the trees whisper your name in adoration and flowers do not wear perfume for you. I am no longer the dog at your feet, but the woman who stands proud. Never again will I cow down beneath your filthy boot. You watch me walk in the sunshine now and remember me as you crouch in your shadowed pit.

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Butterfly Kisses

Filed under: Healing — 4 Comments
February 26, 2011

When I was a teenager I read somewhere that, according to an old Indian legend, butterflies could grant you your lost innocence. This thought obsessed me. I began to truly believe this. I longed for the return of what had been stolen from me so cruelly. I already loved butterflies. They are so beautiful and so fragile. Their lives, though short, seemed to have more meaning, more purpose, than mine. It may sound silly, but I began to pray for this encounter, for this miraculous return of my innocence. For years I longed to feel the butterfly’s kiss and have my healing at long last. One day, walking through the woods, I was admiring the filtered rays of sun touching the ground in a plethora of small pools on the ground before me… praying once again for my healing, for this blessed encounter when, in a flurry of wings, a butterfly smacked me right in the face! I felt my heart burst within me. I laughed, flung out my arms, and twirled in the dappling shadows. I cried with joy. No, I didn’t receive my miracle… at least not the one I was expecting. I’m not going to tell you that my innocence was restored or that the hurt in my heart just floated away to be filled with blessed light. I didn’t suddenly let go of all the pain and fear that haunted me… none of the things I wished for came true. So why did I laugh until I cried? Because in that moment I felt God’s promise come into my heart and fill the emptiness I had been trying to desperately to ignore. He told me then that I would be healed, that my heart would soar again and that the innocent joy I had been seeking would find me. In one moment, alone in the woods, faith filled me and my search was over. I am still healing, I am still journeying, and I am still full of hope. I have found my joy and my innocence waiting right where I left them. I still fall into despair, but at the sight of a beautiful butterfly, God reminds me all that He has promised me will come to pass and my faith is renewed.

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Dark Haiku

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February 25, 2011

 The mist curls softly,
caresses me lovingly,
a cool kiss of death.

I seek the embrace
of skeletal Thanatos
with his grinning skull

and eyeless sockets.
He carefully gathers me
doll-like in his arms,

singing lullabies
to the dying child within.
I cry in the end,

With horror – with pain.
One tear for my funeral.
One tear for my death.

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Memories

Filed under: Poetry — 2 Comments
February 24, 2011

 With growing interest I watch his hands
gesturing emphatically as he preaches
to the congregation about God and man.
He preaches against the sins of greed and wine;
he tells us how we are to come as a child
unto the Lord for His blessed forgiveness.

With trembling lips I beg for forgiveness.
I take the punishment from hard, cruel hands.
Inwardly, I curse the loss of my child-
hood while I listen to the message my uncle preaches.
Later, in my room, I stifle a whine
while fighting back tears of pain from the man

I have lovingly called uncle. This cheerful man
Hides secrets which are hard to forgive.
He gets high off touches, drinks them like wine
while inflicting embarrassing pain with his hand
up my thigh. Still touching me he preaches
and I can only sit stiff, a scared little child.

He talks about Jesus, who was Mary’s child
and I feel disgusted, afraid of this man.
His message seems the same as the one Jesus preaches,
but his actions are different. Does he ask forgiveness
for the crimes he committed with his holy hands?
Will there ever be a day for him to whine?

It looks thick, red like blood, his wine
of communion. I do not take any, I am a child.
With utmost kindness, he hands
me a towel to cleanse myself of he touch of this man.
I’m so scared of my uncle, who tells of forgiveness
while hurting the child who hears what he preaches

and who loves the Lord, loves the message he preaches,
Who takes what she can, who does not whine,
who longs for comfort, who begs for forgiveness,
who wants to know “Why Her?” His brother’s child.
Why must she suffer the lust of this man?
Why must she endure the touch of his hands?

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Prayer?

Filed under: Poetry — 1 Comment
February 23, 2011

I fall to my knees before you

-Crumple down…

Begging for comfort – not daring to accept your touch.

I cry for you:

In fear.

In pain.

I plead for release

-for solace.

Just let me die here

          that I might be reborn

…..metamorph

…..spread my wings

And fly away.

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