Poetry 3

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Neva LaRue Brown
[email protected]
http://raptor.csc.flint.umich.edu/~brown
“Mother, grandmother, free and happy. Sexual abuse survivor and domestic violence survivor … emphasis on survivor. I am so blessed.” See also her Short Stories.

RECOVERY
by Neva LaRue Brown

My life, governed by hate and fear
For so long a violent, ticking bomb
That exploded over and over again
In that euphemistic educated phrase
Domestic Violence.
Days and nights of fear, pain, anger,
Bruises, blood, terror and seemingly never ending
Nightmares filled with images of his face and fists.
Time didn’t seem to diminish the nights of horror
Even though my days grow ever stronger.
You have become so much a part of my growth
My stuttering, gradual return to sanity
It only seems natural that when
In the whisper soft velvet of night
I wake, shattered with fear
There you are, your voice soft, patient, loving,
Whispering, “It’s ok… you’re ok…”
And then, in the tender circle of your arms, I am.

©nlb May 21, 1998
Copyrighted material; do not reprint without permission.

Mid Life Crisis
by Neva LaRue Brown

His injury is benign, though deadly being incrementally reduced by life most of the time too burned out for more than rattled reflections on the day gone past. Somehow on the road to conquering his future while life went on in familiar torment he spent far too much time in the mean little business of survival.

When he was drawn in primal wonder led to the awful doomed inquiry of his middle years when the harpy’s voice whispering in dreams, at quiet sunrise, at those unforeseen instants of drilling isolation asking with unflagging persistence Is this as happy as he will ever be? Does he have the right to just a little more? Or is there really nothing better to hope for?

He waits, as he often does silently hoping some alternative forceful thought or feeling will expose some less ambivalent truth then the life he has become, where choice and need seem indistinguishable and he watches his life being determined by those who seem not to know his soul and the aching need that roils within.

But choices don’t really exist in the way he thought they would when he was a child and expected the regal power of adulthood to provide clarity and insight, so now questions remain whose answers he hungers for. Instead, he finds himself clutched by resentment, loss, numbness; paralyzed victim of circumstance and time.

©nlb March 18, 1996
Copyrighted material; do not reprint without permission.

The Right One

The windswept heart seeks solace in love but so many times what happens is a mismatch and one loves more or not at all and the pain is great but not endless. For each of us there is another the right one to calm the storm that rages inside and fear subsides leaving in its place a space unbounded by the limited confines of time or space.
It can happen at 40 or 60 or 80 and still feel as fine as if it had existed from the first moment of the universe’s evolution and if you’re very wise what you do is learn to cherish and value all that luck and fate have offered as a gift.

©nlb July 24, 1996
Copyrighted material; do not reprint without permission.

Wendy V. Harrison

Ms. Harrison has been diagnosed with learning disability, attention deficit disorder, memory loss and PTSD. I have fallen between the cracks all my life with no seeing eye dog or support system. Poetry is my communication.

BIFLIP
by Wendy V. Harrison

Lovingly planted on this earth
I pensively ask
What is my REAL worth

Stamped with a pedigree
I was never really free
Marriage provided unconditional love
Abundantly blessed
By God above

Children brought challenges galore
Their antics I do adore

Faced with an empty nest
I know now what is best

Where o where do I belong
I am biflip
Active and debonaire, yet at times with out a care

So much to see and do
Mountains to climb, vistas to explore
Excitement as never before

Debutant, woman, Alien
Truely a unique specimen

Tumbled
by Wendy Harrison

GOD CREATED IN ME
A MASTERPIECE
WHOSE VALUE DOTH INCREASE

Cracked at birth
I oft times wonder
Whats my real worth

My mind
Takes an alternate route
Scurring and scrambling no doubt

RATIONALIZATION
GIVES WAY
TO IMPROVIZATION

My ears hear
Gods words on tape
My eyes see
Gods company

My mind repaired
By a God who cared
How I fared
Thus His healing shared

SO I SERVE MY RISEN LORD
AS A WOMAN
FULLY ABLE AT GODS TABLE

SURVIVOR
by Wendy Harrison

I emerged from the woman
All spanking new and blue
My home become my prison, my tomb

I alone held the golden key
The inside of me to see

My computer banks locked
Happy memories locked

Only images, barbs and negatives
Are all that survived
For me to revive

Anger and rage did seethe
Oft times I could not breathe

Battered Broken and shattered
I oft asked
What truely mattered

Yet through the Dacau
For me to bloom
I would not allow

A higher power has freed me from my prison tower
A survivor – a woman who will not cower

Alicha Price
http://members.aol.com/Reasha1/readingroomindex.html
Ms. Price’s above page “is dedicated to all persons that have been ravaged by the devastation of abuse. It is for like souls who seek freedom from these atrocities. Let my voice be heard … in some way let the silence be broken. In this space you will hear the music of my heart, and the sorrow of my soul captured … readily awaiting your perusal. My words speak of pain, joy, love, betrayal, desire, anger, the heart, and the many emotions experienced in this life journey.” Please visit her above page for more of her poetry.

I Hear Your Voice
by Alicha Price

Shall my words become a guide,
For those whose voices go unspoken?
For those who’ve traveled a narrow solitary road,
Shall a wider, less perilous path be broken?

Will you realize you’re not alone,
When I tell my story true…
If I make myself vulnerable
Revealing heart and soul to you?

For far too long our pain’s gone unseen.
For far too long our voices fallen silently.
So, my purpose is to make us known..
No longer shall others deny us our reality

No longer shall we go unheard,
Nor permit others to make our choice.
No longer, in darkness shall we hide,
For in every word I speak, sonorously…
“I Hear Your Voice”

I Was Just A Child
by Alicha Price

I was just a child.
I didn’t have dreams.
I didn’t know
what I wanted for the future.
I just wanted you to go,
but you still took me away.
Why did you ever have to come,
for you brought the pain.
I was just a child,
but I knew to hide,
and I knew to lie,
Anything to rid myself of you.
To get away
from the hurt to come,
for you always hurt me.

And I thought there was
something wrong with me.
Maybe I was as evil
as you said I was.
And that scared me.
I didn’t want the devil to get me.
But now I know,
With all the things I did,
All the pain I accepted,
All the tears I cried,
And the hatred I felt,
I was still just a child.

Grieve
by Alicha Price

There’s a little lost girl inside
that reaches out.
as she did so long ago.
She wanted love, affection, and attention,
but instead she was swallowed up in your depravity.

She cries.
Now, it’s okay
She laughs.
And it’s real laughter.
She rocks me to sleep
when there’s no other comforting hand.
She listens to my sorrow,
for there is much to tell.
And still she wants love and approval.

What you took…

My smile,
the laughter in my eyes,
the joy of closeness and hugs.
You misconstrued boundaries,
leaving me puzzled and alone
afraid of reaching out
because again I would hurt.
I can’t remember joy
that was not overshadowed
by pain sorrow or fear.
I can’t touch my children
and have them touch me
without the lingering fear
of doing something wrong,
or making them into sick individuals.

What did you take?

You took all that I could have been,
my courage,
and my desire to live.
You took my love and tainted it.
You took my confidence…my sanity.

Maybe I could’ve been the singer, author…somebody.
You took my innocence,
my dreams…. the light.

Now I fight for reality,
love,
acceptance,
my children,
understanding,
trust,
oneness of self,
and the love of who I am.

I fight for truth,
my sanity,
laughter,
joy,
peace….ME!

THIEF
by Alicha Price

With every kiss,
I eagerly opened to you my soul.
For every caress,
receiving love was my primary goal.
Each time I offered,
you took all I had to give,
leaving me drained
emotionally empty.
I gave freely,
hoping this time
some feeling would escape,
maybe I’d catch a remnant of your love.

Again Nothing.

In the end
I always felt incomplete,
knowing I was missing something,
feeling barren and still needing.
And I realized,
though I gave
and opened to you,
you took
and left nothing
thief!

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