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WOUNDED CHILD POETRY PAGE


All of the poems in this collection were written over the past 10 years of my healing journey. Writing was and is a major part of my healing process from the abuse and also dealing with MPD. The drawings on this page were done by our 15 year old alter Toni. You can see more of her work on her gallery page. All of my poems and Toni's drawings are copyrighted and belong to us. Please do not use them on your web page without first contacting me. Thank You and enjoy. Jmae



CALL TO A WOUNDED CHILD
Walk with Me
Through darkened rooms we'll climb
Past covered dust-filled sculptures in the night
With hand in Mine we'll fight the shadows left behind
Till all that's hid within is brought to light
Fear not that which is lurking in the dark
Nor tremble at the sights which you have seen
For if in Me you trust with all your heart
Then all the times of sorrow I'll redeem




A Mother's Love

What daughter doesn't covet her mother's love
That unconditional acceptance
A model to look up to
To be carefree
Knowing ou don't have to prove your worth
The waiting
For a time when words no longer sting
Nor reminders of how difficult a child I was
Tell me,
Which comes first
Being told how much you're not liked
Or being difficult
Well I've stopped waiting
I didn't ask for things to happen to me
I didn't ask to look like you
I didn't start out being difficult
And maybe if you didn't hate me
For the you that you saw in me
I would not have had to grow weary in waiting.
Love is more than just a word
And your recollections of me
Are not funny

They hurt.





Time Passages

Time passages
From past to present
Picking up precious cargo
Some carrying baggage
To be left as waste
Along the side
Other parcels
To be locked up
Till the appointed time
Still all to be embraced
None left out
What does it mean
All this travel
For it seems we go backwards
But all the while
Moving ahead
Pressing toward our goal
Of being whole




Quicksand

Waiting for the ground
To swallow me up
Where else can I go
What else can I do
Bout after bout
Has sapped my strength
Knocking out the wind
Too many questions
Not enough answers
And all the while
The quicksand
Of depression
Pull me deeper in
No stick in sight
To pull me out.




Reality

what is reality
it slips through our fingers
when overwhelmed by so much else
that lurks around corners waiting to be uncovered
or stumbleed over
and that which is not hidden
waits to pounce
on its unsuspecting victim
who is earnestly searching
and waiting
for those things
which normal people regularly receive




The Top

Once again I reach the top
Only to find there is more at the bottom
That needs to be looked at
So many to hear
So much to see
They can't be forgotten
Their pain ignored
It happened before
But not now, no more
The young ones cry out
To be held,
Comforted,
Made to feel safe
To be protected
By the one whom
They once protected
So as I stand at the top
Hearingtheir cries
Feeling their pain
Holding back the tears
Once again I descend.

YOU CAN SEE MORE OF MINE AND SOME OF THE OTHERS POETRY ON OUR NEW SITE:
COLLECTIVE'S CREATIVE CORNER


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