Broken

Can I just explain?

It's such a strange thing. Often my most optimistic posts are written on the cusp of a sudden descent into the ever present darkness that pervades my life. Hence I posted about my late night bath time ... closely followed by the poem below. Which I then withdrew this morning. Part of my ongoing battle perhaps.

The bath time events described occurred a few weeks ago when I was staying over at my beloved sisters' place. I am so lucky to have an opportunity to be an auntie, something that brings me more joy than I can hope to describe. The chance to give love without the blessing/burden of parental responsibility. Priceless.

And yet ... and yet. There are times when I feel so totally desolate. Times when I feel that all that I am was defined long ago. When unspeakable things were done ... things I saw, things I experienced, things I did.

Don't tell me that just because I was a little girl it doesn't count. It counts. I broke trust with my brother. It counts. It does.

And so ...


Broken

I want you to know
the nature
of my brokenness

When I was small
I met a man
a monster man

He did things
unspeakable things
which I watched

And then was watched
by my brother
we locked eyes

I willed him through
it was not enough
it never is

And somehow now
I can't unlock
from these things
Posted by Jos

7 comments:

  1. Jos9 May 2010 at 16:42

    This comment has been removed by the author.

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  2. Wait. What?10 May 2010 at 19:22

    I think things that happened to us as children count more than some things in our adult life, because of how deeply it affects us and how long it ultimately stays with us...

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  3. Wine and Words10 May 2010 at 23:18

    Emotions are guests that come and go. They do not define who we are. You are not this darkness, nor am I mine, although perhaps we choose to visit more often than we should, or perhaps not enough...our grieving not complete. It is a tunneling for each, the ground trampled by evil is harder than that of good...and it takes us longer to shovel through, but you see the light...yes? You see it, don't you Jos? Not today? Let me show you...small but mighty light it is. You see it now???? Give me that bloody shovel...you rest a bit.

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  4. grete15 May 2010 at 20:47

    Jos -

    Such heavy burden you must carry to write such weighty words. But as Wine and Words says, emotions do not define who we are. Nor does actions. Especially not those of distant past. We have a choice to redefine our every day. Though I know know know how difficult this is. For the past two weeks I have walked and written about Wendell Berry’s “I Go Among Trees and Sit Still” . I have repeated this stanza again and again

    Then what I am afraid of comes.
    I live for a while in its sight.
    What I fear in it leaves it,
    and the fear of it leaves me.
    It sings, and I hear its song.

    Believe me - I can hear that song.....

    Wishing you the best.

    Grete

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  5. human being17 May 2010 at 18:26

    .

    broken wings
    fly higher
    'cause
    they know about
    the
    f
    a
    l
    l

    .

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  6. Anonymous18 May 2010 at 23:03

    Not sure what to say that hasn't already been covered. You are brave and wonderful. You are loved and perfect. I wish I could salve the hurt, but I believe it necessary, sometimes it just is. You make me remember what it means to conquer instead of just surviving. I'm sorry I didn't comment on other posts... but I read them. xo Sisterly Love.

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  7. A.Smith23 May 2010 at 18:05

    Some times I think that there is a ghost that lives inside all of us. It brings tidings of other times, other places we would rather leave for good in the past. Is it a reminder of our strength that we often forget because of the painful memories evoked by the ghost? A child is broken and from that shell we must help the individual come out, we must give the individual the power and the trust to protect the broken child and in the process to mend him/her.

    I always think of a broken glass, no longer capable of holding anything but light. Aren't we all as fragile as fine crystal. We may not be able to hold anything but light. We must labor to do so, or the ghost wins.

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