|
A pen and
pad of paper soon became best friends, and while I have
walked away, as we will all do with our closest friends,
from time to time, I have always gone back to the welcoming
arms of this medium to find comfort and understanding of
myself that does not come from any other source. I have
grown into a less clunky woman, and have found a place in
the world where people let me into their secret lives and
dreams. I am learning every day the power of true love on
wounded lives, and now my writing is a a gift that I offer
most humbly to those who might benefit from the words, and
the emotion behind them. Two of my
poems, History Was To Blame, and Man Child, are based on the
very courageous sharing by a very dear friend who lived
through the full circle of the horrible event known as child
molestation. My own sister was violated by our father. It
was the only time I benefited in any way to be the ugly
brown haired lump of a child, as it kept his hands off of
me. The fact that I was not worth molesting did have the
impact of making me feel even less worthy of any attention
than I already did not receive. It is hard to feel lower
than shit on an ant's shoe, but my father managed quite
handily to make me feel thus. It took me many years to
finally realize that I could be loved, and deserved to be.
It took a rape, a child born and adopted out to a loving
family because he would never find love in me, and years of
feeling like damaged goods before I tired of it. A near
brush with my own mortality, in the form of heart failure,
coupled with diabetes and severe anemia, made me stop and
think about what I was here for, and if there was a chance I
might ever fulfill this purpose. I seriously wondered if I
might not be just some cosmic scapegoat, being created just
for some wrathful and hateful higher power to torment. I
decided that if that was how I saw the Divine, maybe I
needed to look at other views of the Universal Mind. Finding
others who had the same questions and concerns had led me to
recognize that I was not, nor would I ever be able to call
myself a Christian. I simply refuse to bow to an evil old
man who sends his son to do his dirty work while he picks
and chooses on a whim what he will and will not do for his
followers. Thank you, but I have come out with the short end
of that attitude too many times, and would rather face Hell
than bow to another being who does not love and support me
as I am. I am much the same way in my relationship to people
now, as well. I learned over the years of being on the
outside, looking in, that there is much more breathing room
on the outside, and have developed a dislike of any kind of
crowd situation. It is not a phobia, not a fear. I simply do
not like being jostled, pushed, and restricted by others in
my path. Fortunately, I am also polite about this. LOL. I
keep my social life intimate and selective, and gravitate
towards interesting people, survivors, and strong souls who
have lived hard and learned well from it. By Other Poems by Linda at Oakwood's Poetry Blog |
|
||||
|
|||||
|
Don't miss out, on all of our updates, including lots more
from "Linda's pen" or to read our Teams
latest articles
before they are published, reserve your copy of our free
monthly newsletter e-zine, sign up today using the form
below, and become one of our exclusive members. Look out for
our special free bonus's for our members only. Please make sure that your e-mail account DOES NOT block us by putting us on your trusted list, particularly AOL, Yahoo, and MSN users. Use our special invitation form below to reserve your copy of "The Corner" an e-zine for every woman. All of our Team look forward to a long and happy future together, with YOU as our valued friend. |
|
|
THANK YOU FOR VIEWING MY PAGE, DO BROWSE
THROUGH THE 10,000 E-BOOKS IN OUR DATA BASE
MORE ARE BEING ADDED DAILY