This Place

It was the most delicious sleep;
wrapped in the deep chambers
of dream.  Talking with people
I only recognize in this
fantastic dream; in a place
that takes my breath away
just thinking about it now.
I was laughing. Rich in love.
A feeling of belonging.  Not
that I feel like I don't
belong now. This place.
Oh, this place was home.
My home.  Nothing temporary.
Nothing ordinary.  This place
gave me a sense of peace. I
carry that dream with me now.
Bring it out in my mind's eye;
like  lovingly looking at a picture
I will forever cherish. If only for
a dream. This place.

Poetic Moment

Surrounding myself
With my words
Losing myself
In the verb
Shutting out the
World out there
Wrapping myself
In the poetic moment
In here
One of my greatest escapes.

Just Cause

You have
Just cause
To recreate you
Just cause
To hold back darkness
Keeping only the light
You have
Just cause
To laugh
Far more than you cry
To walk away from
That which
Brings you down
You have
Just cause
To put yourself first
You were nothing before
You are everything now
You have
Just cause
Just because
If for no other reason
You deserve
Only the best.

Healing

Don't rush the healing
Focus on feeling
You've come further
Than you realize
Making the first step
Is never easy
Expect a stumble
You'll keep getting back up
Knowing
You'll never fall
That far again
Get to know you
You've hid from her
For such a long time
Learn to laugh again
The sound will delight you
Dive into your soul
Take a deep breath
And dive again
Soon
You will learn to swim
The further away from
Dark tides you get
The more it will seem
Like a bad dream..
Just a dream.

Lovely One

Tell me what he did to you
Little, lovely one
You can tell me all
Or just a little
I know what you're feeling
I've been where you are now
Just take your time, lovely one
The pieces are all undone
But if you allow it
They will fall back together
A broken heart
Allows more light to enter
Someday soon
You will look in the mirror
Admiring the strong, beautiful
Woman that you are.

The One

How dare I
Dream about love
Dare I say
The infinite kind
My heart's been shattered
At least, that's what
Everyone tells me
And I almost have a
Notion to believe 'em
But my mind won't stop wandering
This patient soul preparing
Mental pictures creating
Vivid happy scenes.

My soul reserving a spot
For the one that was
Meant to be there
All along.

Warming Heart

Through these
Hallowed out
Dark walls
Light enters
Through splintered cracks
Shining past the
Heartaches
To the beating
Epicenter
Warming the cold interior.

Kindness Matters

Take care, my love
Caution
The push
The shove
Not everyone is against you
Allow kindness
Let it be your
First and
Best friend.

*Note to myself.

Muted Shades

I have nothing
If only
My words
My poems
My dreams

All that I had
Stripped away
Slate wiped clean
I stand in the
Muted shades between
Reality and Fantasy
Waiting for the two
To become one
To far exceed any
Expectations
I dare imagine

Death Call

Death tapped lightly
At her
Young
Innocent
Clean
Door
5 years new
Older sister knew
Young parrots will
Replay everything we say
And so the call was answered
Little baby blue
Smoking her first joint
Whilst learning her kindergarten lessons
But that wasn't enough
There was more light to snuff
10 year old
Gets brave
Gets bold
Decides heroine would
Give a better dance
Lighter under spoon trance
But even that got old and dirty
So by the time she's 30
Meth has lifted her to a new high
Her husband preparing for the
Goodbye
32
Eyes no longer innocent and blue
She danced with death at such a
Tender young age
Thought it would be ok
Older sister did too, by the way.

* Pray for the lost souls. I wish this poem was some figment of my imagination.  Unfortunately, it is not.  This poor soul never stood a chance & simply did not know better.  If older sis was doing it, it must be ok. Right?! So wrong, on so many levels.  We're all a little broken.  Some more than others. Her story forced me lend a kinder thought and a kinder perspective on her situation.  Tonight, my prayers go out to all broken spirits and lost souls. 

Cherishing a Moment

These are the moments
I cherish
Cling onto with
Breathless awe
Moments when all
Thoughts of my past
Escape me
Moments where only
Glimpses of my future
Filter into my tired
Non-resistant soul.

Persona

I stand in amazement
The transformations
Surrounding me
I don't say this smugly
I'm looking at a newer
   version of myself
It's taken a long time
To recognize myself
To see the familiar
Stranger
Hiding within
I've studied her
Tried to run from her
Now I welcome her
Liking what I see
Finally.

Unexpected Plans

What are you gonna say
At the end of the day
Did you get it all done?
Everything you planned?
Or do you walk in the
Occasional fog
Faithful your steps
Won't fail
That sometimes things
Won't go as you planned
Sometimes
It works out better.

Body of War

I was a different person then
I would do anything to stave off
A fight
Cry and scream
Slamming doors
Hide in my silence
And then there was my body
The better weapon
It ended many fights externally
But ravaged my spirit internally
I used everything I had
Painted on a mask
Until I became unrecognizable
Even to myself
Until I could no longer stand
To look at myself
Until I started to
No longer matter
My body was my
Weapon
My last defense
Against nonsense
  and even that
  no longer made sense.

Touch of Love

I couldn't stand to be
Touched
For the first few months
Unexpected hugs
Made me cringe and
Die a little on the inside
Loveless hands
Left a mark on my soul
Ugly words
A path so dark
In the deep recesses
Of my mind
Always looking for the
Ulterior motive
Instead of the
Kind gesture intended
I learned early on to
Push back
So I pushed
Pushed people away
Only a scant few
Knew
Arms that never tired
In their loving force
Wrapping me in
Gathering me close
Speaking to me in a
New language of love
Until it no longer sounded
Or felt
Foreign.

A Lesson Remembered

Don't you dare forget
Not all of it
That moment you fell
Learned to pick yourself up
Walk on your own
Think on your own
Breathe
On your own
That moment
You learned to live
There's nothing wrong
With remembering
A lesson should always
Be remembered.

Good Girl

Good girl
Raised in a good home
With good rules
Good talk
Good schools
Good girl listened
Watched as the rules
Would bend
Noticed how the
Good talk
Did not always
Walk the walk
Silently watching
It all
Taking it in.

Stand up straight
Don't wear this
Wear that
Why are you
Wearing that hat?
Pull your hair back
No
Wear it down
Smile more
Mommy doesn't like
To see you frown
Smile pretty
Mommy needs
A good girl
No questions dear
It's the questions
Mommy doesn't like to hear

What was that
You said?
Critical voices
Creating the person
I'd some day dread.

Now That You Know

And now that you know
You know
You know
You know
Where do we go
We go
We go
We go
Won't you please
Enlighten me
Tell me what you see
Will I just fade away
Turning blue skies
Into gray
Or will I reach the sun
Touch the surface
Colors run
Spectral colors bleeding
Stormy clouds receding?

Birds of a Feather...

I won't ask you to stay
Though it sure would be nice

I know you're busy but
You always manage to
Find the time
Stopping to listen
This tangled heart of mine

You never budge
Or
Haven't so far
I fairly think I could
Tell you anything and
Still you would listen
Never batting an eye
Never condescending

I don't ask you to stay
Because you're all ready here
You floated in
Quite unexpectedly
I think the North winds
Were blowing that day

I perched on my little branch
Loving to watch you fly
My wings broken
Thought I
Persistent
Patient
Consistent you
Casually pointing out
That I could
Still fly, too.

Your Eyes

I could get lost
Looking into your eyes
Amber
Glowing
Faintest tinge of green
Your eyes tell a story
I never grow tired of hearing
A story I know
You don't often share
That's quite all right
You need not say a word
It's all right there
There
In your beautiful eyes.

Let Go

Holding on
So tight
Darkest
Wrong
Clearest
Right
Rope stretching
Thin
Hands aching
Fisted
Gripping
Not wanting
To fall again
This rope
Sole possession
Frayed ends
Time to
Let go
Free my hands for
More
Substantial holding.

Perceptual Time

It's taken so long

To get to where I am

Yet, it's only been a

Fraction of a second

Time

A perception

A creation in the mind.



Inglorious Truth

"Oh, thank God.  It's finally done
You're healed
We can move on."

She clapped and
hugged me
But later
When I cried
When the rest was
Still undone
She snubbed me.

Stand Up

He knows the old me.  The "me" that was scared to stand up to him and when I did, I quickly apologized.  Over and over like a sad mantra. The "me" that would do anything to stave off a fight, a lecture, a word beating, or an emotional roller coaster.  He learned all about me.  He knew I avoided conflict and would put my all into anything I set mind to. He made it his mission to build me up and later tear me down.  It nearly worked.  I'm still the type of person that needs time to process new information.  I like to evaluate and speculate before I speak. Knowing that, he would always break my train of thought; keeping me confused.  Mind games.  Emotional warfare that came unexpectedly. Preying on my internal process he viewed as a weakness.  He treated me like an errant child; laughing at my fears of our broken relationship.  Laughing at my sadness. Just another tearing down method of my self esteem that always made me second guess my "big ticket issues" with him.  I would end up questioning whether I was really upset - "was he right? Was I making more out of this than was actually necessary?" These are the questions I would constantly ask myself.  My internal battle.  That was then.  This is now. Now I'm away from his madness; his narcissistic mind that constantly demanded to be fed praise from a self-defeating partner.

Yesterday, he stood at my door.  His smirk.  His patronizing tone.  I didn't yell.  I kept my voice just loud enough that it forced him to listen.  I laid out my issues.  Pointed out my concerns and told him to stop.  Told him.  Never asking.  Never apologizing.  I have nothing to apologize for.  Asking him to do the right thing is pointless.  Telling him is much more efficient and effective.  My tone held a warning.  He has far more to lose than I even realize.  He knows this.  He laughed and like speaking to a child I simply told him the laugh was inappropriate.  He continued some senseless conversation and I simply closed the door quietly and casually.  My greatest victory, to date.

I have the choice.  All of the choices, really.  I can choose to argue with him and feed some of his psychological need to communicate with me in a negative way.  Or, I can choose to end the argument.  I can choose to remain stressed and have my hair fall out and spiral down in some pathetic sense of myself.  Or, I can choose to keep calm - knowing this will all be over soon.  I can choose to sit back and let him run his errant mouth and do his thoughtless deeds.  Or, I can choose to continue to stand up to what I know is right.  I choose my sanity.  I choose my calm.  I choose to stand up. 

The Path is Not Always Straight

If I thought my life would somehow get easier, I was mistaken.  Sounds melodramatic, right?  It's true for all of us.  Life keeps going.  A straight and easy path that's always predictable is not the kind of life I want.  I want the surprises.  I know there will good days and I definitely know there will be bad days.  The path has many twists and turns.  There might even be junctures that lead off that true path.  It's all a lesson.  Inner evaluation always leads us in the right direction.  As long as we're willing to be honest with ourselves.  That's the key.  Not everyone will see your progress.  Some will criticize you.  Keep walking.  The path is narrow.  Don't stop just because you can't see past the bend in the road.  Follow it.  See where it takes you.  What if you do fail or meet the wrong person?  Your past helped paint a picture of what was wrong; what you should walk away from.  It also helps paint more clear a picture of what you do want; what is absolutely right. In this lifetime, we will gain and lose friends.  The "Narrow Path People", as I like to call them, know how important it is to cultivate all aspects of a relationship.  They won't always agree with you but neither will they belittle you in their disagreement. They won't understand completely what it is you might be going through, but they're willing to listen to your perspective.  They may not be able to take away your pain but they share your pain.  The fine art of appreciating empathy and sympathy.  Sometimes it's ok for someone to feel sorry for you.  Even better if they empathize. 

 My life, right now as it stands, is so unpredictable.  A far cry from the dreary predictable world I was living in.  New surprises for new horizons.  I've met a lot of nay-sayers.  I've met the overly judgmental.  Ahh, but I've met some of the most beautiful souls who show me a better perspective. 

Oceanic Soul

Suspended
Holding my breath
Preparing for the next dive
I swore I'd never
Enter this ocean again
But it's the ocean where
I thrive.

I long to venture out
Past the coral reef
Into the calming depth
Or
Crashing waves
Swim with the knowledge
This ocean is mine.

My soul is as deep as
The ocean
If not
Deeper
I'll swim every depth of her
Or spend a lifetime trying
There is irreverent, infinite
Calm in this ocean deep
Treasures of my soul
Priceless treasures to reap.

PTSD

I haven't publicly told anyone I have PTSD.  Only a very select few knew prior to this post.  It's so hard to write about now. Why? It's silly, I know.  As a society, we can talk about our sexual encounters, demeaning rape, grievous suicide - and then there's domestic abuse and its subsequent PTSD; the subjects most don't want to think about let alone talk about. I didn't at first understand what in the world was wrong with me. Now I do. I've known for quite some time.  It literally comes and goes like the wind.  At first, it came unexpectedly.  Now I know the precipitating factors that lead to the spiraling emotional roller coaster.  Thankfully, the symptoms are less and less. My coping strategies are rather quite simple. I'm doing one of them at this very moment. Writing. It separates me from my mind. Sometimes I hide too much inside.  Writing lets it all out. Wikipedia and the WebMD say it's not a disease. It's a disorder. I kinda giggle when I write that. My "So there!" stance. A disorder is manageable. I can laugh about it now. Like when I get in an awkward situation or place full of awkward people, I openly say "Oh no. I have to go. My PTSD is kicking in. I need to burp." It's funny, but darn if it ain't true. I also have GERD if you're keeping a secret list.

It isn't that I'm making light of any of this. It's that I now have the freedom to make light of this. The exhilarating freedom to laugh it off. That was so not the case 3 years ago. This has been all about me learning about me. Diving into my oceanic soul and discovering the depths. I've learned so much.

Angels Sleep

Take a moment
And just breathe
The worst is certainly
Over
But the journey is not
After you cried
Burning tears
Yelled at the moon
For shining too bright
After you shake
Your fist
Or stomp your feet
Remember
You need your sleep
Tuck your wings
Tightly in
Rest your halo
On that soft pillow
Your wings are
Not broken
Only a miniscule clip
Soon
Very soon
You'll be flying again
Silence that voice
Inside your head
Your perspective is all ajar
I think it's time
You go to bed
Don't fear the night
Don't worry about tomorrow.

Remember when you
Were young and
Carefree?
Racing across the moon
And counting sheep?
Let this moment be similar
You are an angel
And even angels
Need their sleep.

Beautiful Boy

I'm so proud of my boy.  My courageous tiny tot.  He's gone through it all with me.  It's surely been a lot.  Daycare at 12 weeks old; never once complaining.  Doesn't matter if it's sunny, cloudy, snowing, or raining.  He had to learn fast; the boundaries to help me stay sane.  Learn them he did and I'm learning the same.  We sing happy tunes; dance and read a lot.  I have such a smart tiny tot. He looks to me for reassurance during the long journey requiring massive endurance.  Reassure him, I surely do. And you know what's so sweet? When I do, he always says "thank you." He's not perfect, but then again, neither am I. It's the precious moment of putting him to bed.  When he wraps his arms around my neck and whispers "I love you, Mommy" and lets out a sigh. Yes.  I think I must be doing something right.

Cherishing These Moments

I must be doing
Something right
My tot
Laughs and plays
Such a happy little boy
Making new friends
Learning so much
So fast
Like him
I'm soaking up
These moments
Before it all
Becomes part of
The past.

I've Come Too Far to Stop Now..and random thoughts

There are times, like now, when I want to just stop.  Tell the court, "Do what you will.  I won't be coming to any more of these hearings that take time out of seeing my son and work." I can't.  I can't do that.  I have come to the point where the judge actually respects me, no matter what my splintered thoughts may tell me.  There are a thousand things I can worry about.  I choose to hand it all over to God.  There is a reason this is all happening in the order it is happening.  My way isn't necessarily the best way.  God has a Plan.  I'm trusting that Plan.  In the meantime, I write to excavate my soul its ravaging thoughts. I pour my heart in these poems I write. Do you know, I started writing poetry when I was 6. Really got INTO it when I was 12.  Read Shakespeare and Walt Whitman when I was 14.  Dreamed of (and still do) being published every single day that I can remember.  It's not just a passion.  It is part of me.  It's my soul.  Somewhere along the line, I allowed other people in the past to cloud my view of myself; of what I knew was right for me.  I stopped writing poetry in my 20's.  I allowed it to leave.  Gave some hob-shob silly ass excuse and called it quits. Life works far more mysteriously than we even realize.  In the middle of my most traumatic storm, the words came back to me.  The dream..arrived so suddenly, it stunned me.

I slowly started writing again before I ever decided to leave my nightmare. I dabbled with beautiful words. Thought fantastic thoughts far beyond my REALITY. Strength kept building.  I started to read again. Sat down and actually enjoyed escaping in a good, take-your-breath-away book.  I started to actually fantasize what it would be like to be a mother.  I know that sounds strange.  I mean, an abusive marriage and I was fantasizing about bringing a little one into the mix? That's something I can't explain. The more I tried to push the thought aside, the more the fantasy played its fantastic mind images. My son's conception was nothing fantastic and no fireworks went off that night, that's for sure. I just know that as soon as it was over, I heard a voice inside me say "And so it shall be." I knew at that very moment I was pregnant.  Strange, right? It's true. My dreams immediately changed.  I was a mother in all my dreams. A happy mother.  My body started changing immediately. So there I was, in the middle of the worst possible life storm.  Pregnant.

I felt a calm surround me. The harshest words he sent me couldn't shake me. Nothing rattled me. I no longer cared if he stayed out all night and all the next day. I stayed calm to keep my baby safe. I hummed.  Thought about my future. And when the day arrived for my son to be born into this world, I knew there was nothing in this world that could stop me from keeping him safe. I raged back home to my family in the middle of the night and my greatest blessing started at that moment.  I was free from the relentless criticism.  I  was free from the verbal onslaught.  I no longer had to worry about the physical abuse. It was far from over, but I felt very liberated at that very humbling moment.

I started doing the things I enjoyed.  I found myself laughing again. Even though the sound of my own laughter sounded strange at first, the point is, I laughed.  I talked to friends and family.  Told them everything I would allow myself to tell (which was a lot).  I talked to God. Not just prayed to Him. I talked with Him. I decided to dig down deep, find the root of my own problem, and fix it before it could happen again.  My self-esteem was in the bottom of the toilet.  I had to fix that.  I did a lot of positive self-talk. Slowly, but very methodically, changed my way of thinking.  I couldn't fix him.  I could only fix what was broken inside of me. 

To some, it may sound silly. To the poets of the world, it sounds normal and healthy...I found my poetic words again. That is my greatest joy, besides being a mother. I have a voice.  No matter how slow the court is, I know they're taking this seriously.



                                     

Ask me...I'll tell you..

I never shy away from anyone's questions about my "situation." I would love it if someone would ask me how I would change the laws on Domestic Violence and violence against women.  I think it's asinine for our court system to expect the victim to sit next to her perpetrator in court during any and all court proceedings.  I feel it's a gross injustice the court sends me out at the end of the court proceeding at the same time they send my perpetrator out...both to walk to our car. Wouldn't it be better if the court allowed a 15 minute window to safely reach my car and leave the parking lot without fear of being followed? Yes, he knows where I live but during a heated debate involving visitation, I think safety should be the forefront in the court's handling / thoughts.  Sadly, it's not.  Ask me how I feel when the judge laughs and makes jokes right along with my perpetrator about future drug testing.  Nothing is funny about "my situation"-- especially while I'm sitting in a court proceeding deciding on the best and safest situation for my son.  Ask me how I feel when my ex husband, who took 18 months to even consider visiting with his son, hands over an anger management work book with a few scribblings; the judge smiling and sending him accolades.  Yes, it's very good he's trying.  However, if I were the judge in this case, I'd demand a workbook with proof from the anger management counselor that he is attending on a regular basis.  It's also very nice my ex is going to church.  He was able to show a post card with a message written by the minister.  A minister that quite frankly does not know him.  That being said, if I were the judge in my case I would be writing down the phone number of that minister and getting a schedule of my ex's religious counseling outlined for future reference. 

Ask me how I feel when my 3 year old comes home after visit "wired for sound".  Worst.  He comes home confused and frustrated.  He still can't put into words how he feels but he shows me.  It worries me.  Ask me how I feel about the court's demand for my son to spend the night with my abusive ex (a known drug user, as well) in the very near future.  I had to fight to get the court to consider having a social worker do a future home safety evaluation.  And I'm still fighting to remind the court that this is the only way I will feel halfway comfortable with an overnight visit.  Unsupervised.  In a known drug neighborhood.  Ask me how I feel about the court's refusal to have a social worker from the state to work with my ex and document his progress.  Isn't that what my (and your) tax dollars go toward?..at least a portion of it, anyway.  The judge in my case is "overly sympathetic to the financial responsibility of" my ex's ability to pay for future drug tests. That's all fine and dandy.  But how the hell is he able to pay for the crack he so desires? He gets that money very easily.  He's working...at least that's what he reports to the court.  This shouldn't be rocket science.  He's a known drug user whose drug of choice is crack cocaine.  Why do I have to demand a monthly drug test?  When, in fact, I would much rather see a bi-weekly drug test. When my ex openly laughs at me and claims he can go to Wal-green's and get a "piss test and piss in front of her if that'll make her feel better," my stomach churns.  The judge did not let that happen but the fact that these comments are allowed is completely unacceptable. 

Some say I should request a new judge.  I have.  The request was rejected.  At least my feeble request reminded the judge that this is very important to me.  My son's safety is in the forefront of all my thoughts.  At this point, I have been in and out of court proceedings for three long years with the same judge.  A new judge may only stall out any kind of progress that is hopefully happening right now.  One thing I am completely sick of hearing? "You are 1 in 500 cases." Tell that to my son.  Tell that to my family and friends who worry right along beside me.  Tell me that one more time and I'll tell you to shut-up.  My case is my case and it's #1 to me.  Period.  Yes, there are worst cases out there.  Yes. They are all important.  My judge seems to think it's important and the circuit clerk thinks it's important every damn time they send out a reminder of the next court date.  I am not a case number.  I refuse to be treated as such. 

First, and foremost, for me personally...I am a survivor.  I refuse to be treated as a victim.  The above suggestions should be standard proceedings in any and all domestic violence cases involving visitation between child(ren) and perpetrator.  I should be able to go into that court room with complete confidence my state is handling my case with respect, dignity, intelligence, and safety.  Not so much to ask for, is it? Yet, I have to ask for all the time.  Every single time.  And I'll keep asking / demanding this.