poetry

Domestic Violence Awareness Month: “Jill’s” Story

Up against the wall… there you were Dangling inches above the ground Suddenly I was drowning with the sounds Of your aching screams of pain My vision was blurred with roaring streams That were forming in my eyes, What do I do was the question of the hour Do I let this one pass by Or do I start to scream and shout What do I do, what do I do…What do I do? The white telephone beginning to form in the corner of my eye Like the sun trying to beam through a rain cloud, Finally I was blinded by that beam of sun I turned around and dialed those foridded numbers 9-1-1

Thank you, Jill, for the touching poem. Thank you for sharing what it was like for you to witness this, and thank you for being brave and saving your mom.

You are strong.

You are brave.

You are loved.

You are safe.

#DomesticViolenceAwareness

Falling Down

Sometimes I fall down, inside of myself.

Unable to get up, or out of the way.

I don’t know what I will trip on,

or what will cause the fall.

But I know I will land, in a hard, loud thump.

My body rejects any efforts of comfort,

and pushes away love and concern.

I am not sure what makes the light fade away,

and allows the darkness to creep in.

I know the pain of trying all too well.

The empty spaces growing,

while the numbness tingles places unknown.

Staying down, too long is not an option.

Pushing my way through the darkness,

helps me live again.

Each fall is followed by my rise,

through the darkness, into the light.

With each fall,

I know one thing,

Nothing remains the same.

I’m Sick

I’m sick of caring what everyone else thinks.

I’m sick of being ignored by the people who used to care about me.

I’m sick of perpetrators playing the victim.

I’m sick of the unsaid things that linger in my mind.

I’m sick of the days bleeding into each other.

I’m sick of how quickly negativity spreads.

I’m sick of being the adult in all situations.

I’m sick of people hurting others, and never having to pay.

I’m sick of the anger.

I’m sick of watching while others hurt.

I’m sick of the noise that takes over the quiet space.

I’m sick of not knowing what is to come.

I’m sick of not having anything to grab onto.

I’m sick of twenty-five years turning to silence.

I’m sick of depending on people who don’t really care.

I’m sick of humanity becoming anything, but human.

I’m sick of the hate.

I’m sick of waiting for things to change.

I’m sick of it.

Vulnerability

I’m naked, and bare.

There is nothing left of me to expose.

The secrets I held so dear,

are leaping off of pages,

from eyes to ears.

There is no more hiding.

My inside cringes when I realize what you know.

I can’t take change it now.

I can’t take it back.

Vulnerability takes hold,

And I learn not to push people away.

I pull them close,

And share all that hasn’t been exposed.

Be free.

Be true.

Be you.

Vulnerability is strength.

Vulnerability is pure.

Vulnerability is authentic.

Trust in the power of vulnerability.

Lost

The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees opportunity in every difficulty.

– Winston Churchill

When you are feeling lost,

don’t forget who you are,

or what you stand for.

When you are feeling alone,

don’t forget, others feel the same way.

Things are never as bad as they seem,

this much I know to be true.

One day at a time,

all the things people say to make you feel better.

They can,

and they do,

but only if you allow them to.

We are in control of how we react to situations.

How we see situations.

Ultimately, it is up to you,

and you alone.

How you perceive it,

and how you allow it take over.

Go for the good.

Go for the strength.

Go for the love.

I Know

I know.

I know that regardless of the doubt my mind floods with, I am loved.

I know that no matter how much fear that lingers inside of me, I am safe.

I know that even though the names I was once called became who I was, they do not define me.

I know that after all of the lies I was told, I deserve the truth.

I know that when someone gives me a compliment, I can accept it graciously.

I know that there are good people, who mean what they say.

I know that some sins can be forgiven, while others never will.

I know that some days are harder than others,

and the knowing becomes complicated.

The familiarity of pain can take over, and I have to remind myself that