In the meantime, enjoy the responses I have made to other prompts.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Inspired by my past

This poem is based on my childhood experiences.  There is much that happened that is not said, but I've struggled so long with how to put into words what I went through, and this is finally what came out.  Some of the facts have been altered for the sake of the poem, and for the sake of offering hope to someone who might be in the midst of the same experience.  Jim, my abuser, was never convicted as none of us ever told until we were adults.  I am considering self-illustrating this (even though I haven't really done any artwork for thirty years) and trying to self-publish.  I am asking those who visit here to provide me some feedback on two points.  Do you think it is worth publishing, and where does the piece need editing?  I thank you in advance for your input.

Time to Tell

I said to sis when I was two,
“I wish that I could be like you;
I want to do the things you do.”
My sis turned twelve when I was two.

And I recall, when I was three,
My older sister said to me,
“I wish that I could set you free.”
That’s what she said when I was three.

The strangest thing, when I was four –
I watched my sis walk out our door.
She never came back anymore.
That’s what took place when I was four.

By five is when I’d start to learn
I had to take my sister’s turn.
Its reach I could not yet discern.
In time, that truth I’d come to learn.

And then my sixth and seventh years
Were filled with conflict, angst and tears,
The cheapest wines, the bottled beers,
And time with him, my biggest fears.

Within myself I tried to hide;
My mother battled her own side.
In no one else could I confide;
Too young to run, I tried to hide.

At eight, I thought to turn to prayer.
I prayed, “Don’t let him touch me there,”
It seems my words hung in the air;
I got no answer to my prayer.

And then in school, when I was nine,
I tried to act like things were fine,
So, that became my standard line,
He left no marks when I was nine.

And next, at ten, entrenched in Hell,
A teacher said she knew me well,
Assured me it was safe to tell;
Her simple words, a gate from Hell.

That year the Fosters took me in,
Said, “What you did is not a sin;
Know now your new life will begin.”
Did God ask them to take me in?

Eleven, twelve, the truth revealed.
So many years of pain concealed.
Could justice help the wounds be healed?
That truth was yet to be revealed.

They called my sister to the stand;
She flew in from some distant land.
“I meant to tell; that’s what I planned,”
She told the court when on the stand.

“I came to make him pay his debts.”
My sister said, “What no one gets:
He kept my silence with his threats.”
What could he do to pay his debts?

Then came the time to resurrect
And try to gain some self-respect.
A mirror’s where I’d ‘oft reflect
On who was there to resurrect.

The route I took from dark to light,
It did not happen overnight.
It took some time to make it right;
For twenty years I fought the fight.

But now, at last, I’m proud to say
That overall, I am okay.
And though some scars get in the way,
No thanks to him, I am okay.


  1. Powerfully written and an inspirational post. Although, not the subject of the poem, I like the manner in which you introduced it, worked through the ages and ended with hope and an enlightening message. Thank you for the courage to share ... may it reach the eyes of those in most need. Blessings on your journey!

  2. Thanks for taking the time to read this poem, and for your encouraging feedback.