Tag Archive: poetry


Anger (free verse)


 

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.

Butterfly Kisses


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.

Dark Haiku


 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.

Memories


 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?

Prayer?


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.