“It always seemed like I was reeling and spinning,
Words from a child who one day would
that their was no solid ground”…
be placed far above her depths of despair.
“Children are resilient, loving and forgiving,
There had always been a hand over her,
always trusting midst chaos and confusion“
that one day would be revealed
I ‘m not sure when or why all of this happened, a life like a spinning top, never finding a landing. The clock of my life
had been turned back, sordid thoughts, clinging to each
other, the hands not willing to go forward.
In a normal person’s thinking, they automatically shut
off the thoughts and go on to more pleasing ones.
They can stop it just like that! I never had that privilege,
mine were stuck like glue, defying any means of
separation, causing me much frustration.
In a child’s mind of imaginary people playing the part
of existing role models, it turns out alright, if they are
lucky enough to have had safe and sound boundaries placed in their lives. But in the beginning of my imaginary
persona, they were far from normal, a father bombed
with alcohol, a mother addicted to gambling, abusive
stepfathers with no morals. I really never had the
opportunity to question this existence. It just was!
I remember as a child, the loneliness and abandonment.
I knew something wasn’t right, the constant defeat
chasing me, but then what was right? When I think
in retrospect, it beguiles my mind, that to survive all
of this was a feat worth mentioning. There was no
rhyme or reason for their cruel acts. I looked to my
role models of this pitiful existence as my heroes, but
then why wouldn’t I? I was unable to see what they
lacked. In a child’s eyes this is all I knew. But I grew
despite all of their abusive ways, portrayed on a daily
basis, (and nightly). When it seemed all the demons
and dragons played their mischievous acts, they knew
when to strike, fighting, screaming, attacking an
already compromised brain from trauma, wrapping their
chains about me. How could hope ever come out of such
chaos and confusion? But this child’s suffering would not
be wasted, it must be captured and saved, that one day all
of these meaningless deeds will hopefully bring healing,
as I share my story with others!
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Donna's Poetry Blog 