Beware: Possible Triggers
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Hiding in my bedroom closet,
Trembling to my toes.
Trying to keep my crying down
Muffled amid the hanging clothes.
She would hear the tell tale signs
And descend upon me there.
Ranting, raving, crazylike
With that cold and icy stare.
She'd beat my head against a wall
Then kick me where I fell.
Pound and kick and kick and pound.
I didn't hide too well!
I pleaded for protection
Not for me, I'd never dare,
But for the other children dying.
How could she, for them, not care?
She screamed that I was lying.
Making stories up, she said!
I'd do anything for attention!
It was all up in my head!
I didn't see those children die!
I didn't see the torture!
I didn't smell the burning flesh
Or hear their cries of horror!
How can it be? She saw it too!
I know she saw it too!
"Shut up!" she said, "You will shut up!
What must I do with you?"
"Kill you, if I must, I will!
I'll beat your head into the wall
Until you find the sense
To admit you've lied about it all!"
I prayed for the peace of blackness
My savior from times before.
If I can't be rescued from this life
At least let me not feel anymore!
And please don't let her kill me.
It's more than I could bear!
To be killed by my own mother
That is my greatest fear!
It's the worst of all rejections
And how defective must I be
If she wants to snuff me out
In her needing to be free?
Gradually, they fade away
The craziness....the pain....the fear.
I see myself down on the floor
From up behind my shoulder.
I've become a distant watcher
Disgusted with the child there!
How do you respect a self so
Helpless and filled with fear?
Finally, the blackness comes!
It brings with it relief!
No more conscious memories of her spite
That no one will believe!
When I awake, she's left me.
The room is black and still.
There is no blood, no torn clothes,
No signs, only what I feel.
The distant watcher's still along
Guiding what I think and do
Telling me that I've been bad.
It can't all be because of you.
She couldn't protect a murderer
So children must not have died!
It doesn't matter what you've done
Because it mattered that I lied!
The distant watcher's helping me
To identify who the culprits are.
My feelings, they have sold me out!
It can't be that she doesn't care!
She didn't let those children die.
I know that I have lied!
The distant watcher's protecting me
But how come I feel dead inside?
written January 1987
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11 comments:
I am so sorry that happened to you.
I thought that this is such a greatly written poem.
You are so expressive in your words.
(((hugs))) very well written. I'm a watcher too --- from over the shoulder
Such powerful, deep emotions that your poetry elicited. My heart breaks that you've had to go through so much.
Take care.
Rebecca
I am sorry that anyone has to endure that which kills them within. It is such a sad way to live.
I am coming around to say goodbye and good luck to all my former blog friends and to wish you well.
this blog struck a deep aching sore for us, we totally understood the words behind it never happened, we are so sorry it did happen both sorry for you and me
Anonymous, me too. And I'm more glad I got the chance to heal from it.
Kahless, Thanks, sometimes it surprises me what can seem so simple can turn into something so powerful.
Enola, I think I knew that about you. Many survivors know about watching, I would imagine.
Rebecca, it all seems very far away now and I'm grateful for that.
murdered soul, I fear an ominous tone in your goodbye. I hope that I am wrong. For lack of knowing what else I can do for you, I'm going to pray for your safety and well being.
JIP, I know you have lots of experience with being told it wasn't real. I'm glad we've both been able to find that it is.
Very powerful indeed. So very sorry that you lived this.
I'm so glad you brought this poem out for us and let us use it for THE BLOG CARNIVAL AGAINST CHILD ABUSE. It is deeply moving and I can relate to so much of it. I'm not sure I would have been able to read it two years ago, in fact. All the therapy allows a different kind of distance that feels healthier and safer.
Thank you for your strength and your courage and your sharing.
The Real, thanks,
Marj, I'm glad that you've gotten to a place you can deal with poems like this. It tells me your pain is subsiding some. Therapy is amazing that way, even though it doesn't necessarily feel that way at the time. LOL
I cry and grieve for the beautiful child that you were and still are somewhere inside. I was more of a listener than a watcher. I closed my eyes to the abuse but listened for the sound of approaching footsteps out of the darkness of night. Even today I sometimes at night hear those footsteps from the past coming back to haunt me on dark nights.
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