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PTSD Resources for Survivors and Caregivers |
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Survivors find peer support |
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Poetry Page 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Art Page 1, 2, 3: The Door Music Page 1 Support Pal Inspirational Stories Page 1, 2 Book Review Page 1, 2, 3, 4 |
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GFW is not responsible for the content of an individual's work which may act as a trigger for some people. |
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| Anticipation By Tammy Rice Bubbling excitement just below the surface, Possibilities trying to push through, Up from the depths, Out towards the light, Like the first daffodil of Spring. All it takes is the smallest of openings, Unseen to the naked eye, But felt deep in the heart, Setting in perfect harmonious motion, The magical coming together of mind, body, and spirit. The path is not planned out, It unfolds, slowly, one step at a time, through both obvious and discrete developments, requiring an open mind, yet quiet vigilance, so a turn is not missed, or a hidden treasure unfound. Aahhh. . . the anticipation of the journey, No expectations, no disappointments, Just pure and simple delight of what lies ahead, Around the next bend, over the horizon, The true joy of being, in the moment, now, today. |
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| Letting Go. . . in the heart of Ireland by Tammy Rice The cold chill, travels slowly up my spine, Innocently evolving from the brisk wind at my back. Quietly replacing the ghost of fear, Hidden in my bones too long. Letting my pain and suffering go, In the heart of Ireland. My body rests vulnerably, upon the solid, ancient rock Feeling its support and strength, of hard-won battles. My eyes peer cautiously over the edge of Dun Aengus, Watching my released shame disperse, slowly, in the ocean below. Letting my pain and suffering go, In the heart of Ireland. I inch, apprehensively, toward Bridget's Well, As tears, make their final escape, slowly down my cheeks. Soon to be replenished by the holy water, Unlocking the chains, of my internal prison. Letting my pain and suffering go, In the heart of Ireland. A gradual ascent to the crest of the Cliffs of Moher, My steps lightening, until the stone beneath is no longer felt. I step carefully over the slate wall to freedom, And I try to fight the impulse to fly. Letting my pain and suffering go, In the heart of Ireland. An imaginary place, created from pain impossible to endure, Became a reality before my very eyes. The ageless tree adorned with ribbons, surrounded by velvety moss, Opens its arms in a warm embrace, and welcomes me home. Letting my pain and suffering go, In the heart of Ireland. Tammy Rice trice@mcdonogh.org |
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| Tide by Tammy Rice A symbol of spiritual awakening, The ebb and flow of growth. Occurring constantly, yet subtly. Baby steps, of forward motion, Slowly filling the vast emptiness inside. With the soothing comfort of embodiment. Soaking through every hidden wound, Until complete saturation has been reached, And everything moves rhythmically, Completely immersed in the healing energy within. More baby steps, backward this time, As the invisible force begins its inevitable retreat. Pulled slowly away to regain its strength, Back into the depths of the unknown. Leaving behind, new places to explore, Exposing some pieces, buried too long. Forcing the "self" to stand firmly grounded, Until the tide of the spirit, sends rescue again, And the luxury to float comfortably in its presence. Tammy Rice trice@mcdonogh.org |
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Unique
If it is true that each of us is completely unique No other before, since, or after our birth is completely the same. Then every experience is also unique. So when something feels physically or emotionally the same Then it is NOT. Even when you are stuck it's NOT "Ground Hog Day" (movie). Bru 2005.04.11 |
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| New Focus Holding my attention on one goal Remembering the path towards that goal Where and what I've done or tried over time That's NEW During the traumatic and abusive years of childhood There was dissociation There were new internal people created to hold particular abuse and reactive emotion Often great leaps and bound in past present time-space between dissociative periods Crisis management was the focus Making up stories to explain my erratic behavior Making up stories to explain why my health and well-being wasn't a focus for the parents Faking it and making it appear I knew what I was doing and going on In past present time-space New FOCUS - now Not comfortable or easy And sometimes I forget But some friends help Gently reminding or asking New FOCUS - now I can remember I can realize I matter to me I have a continuous existence. 2005.05.05 Bru |
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| EMOTIONAL TAPESTRY A tapestry of emotions is weaving through my mind a banner of colors needing to unwind The dark red of anger leaves its path of hate intertwinning with depression not a pleasant personality trait The blues of hurt and fear silently seep into the rest causing an emotional pattern not really quite the best The deeper silent colors of guilt, shame and broken pride appears in the art while trying really to hide Through the years of pain the tapestry has grown to an overwhelming complex picture still not all of it is known For the front of the quilt is what we see and what it shows is not really me Under the colors you should know is a little child wanting to grow One who really wants to learn to trust again and not hide behind a smile and play - "Let's pretend" But a girl who wants to just be free from all that plagues and binds to just be me One who can laugh and laughter is near one who can jump and play without fear The colors of my life have woven my fate without thoughts of the girl trapped within the gate From inside I cry "let her free" but the tapestry is there and the emotions won't let her be Unwind; unwravel unwind you art you evil warden from me depart Leave the child with in me to grow for beauty once again may she know. Cindy Lou |
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| ANGER The anger evolves like a volcano The darkness inside starts to turn red hot Red hot from hurt, being hurt be many, Anger fills my soul At times it's misinterpreted At times anger gets stuffed so deep But then a spark. A BIG spark. And anger takes control Misguided and coming out sideways They tell me my anger runs deep. And I have legitimate reasons. --AJ |
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| Random Thoughts Marble,Marble Which One Next? Pick & Pick Till None are left Windowsill is where SWAN rests Bubbles,Bubbles Were they yours? Scrub & Scrub Cleanse your pours Walls,Walls Ugly to some Scream & Scream Voices heard by one ~Kelly~ |
House of Lies I know this is the end I believe things are true Please bring these clouds to me We will slip into the abyss of pain Dance in the darkness so deep This will go away if we believe Pain will dissipate once again They don't see the scars I will show them all someday Every mind will feel the rot Blinded by the dreams Turning into what was once real How can she know if you feel it Do you live with the mud Or bathe in the purple walls This will go away if we see Tears will flow once again I will not let go of the truth I will open their eyes someway Every heart will see the rot The monkeys will scream Flowers always wilt in the winter And she sees what I cannot Blessed be the crayon lipstick We know not We will fly through the walls I will save the lost voices I touch their tears and... KNOW The darkness tells it all ~Kelly~ |
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| Untitled Demons plague run rampant Spirits entangle within us- The wolf runs, back & forth, back & forth... Creating a wall in my mind. Jaded Confusion, encompasses... Leaving me wandering, Aimlessly, Emotionless... The connection Breaks, comes together, Breaks... Confines the hole in my heart, Offers anger & bitterness It feeds off Guilt. Empty,Raw,Empty. ~Kelly~ |
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If I had to choose Between a rock and a hard place, I would choose a rock. A rock can be climbed. I can stand at the top And stretch High above the fog That hinders my thinking. A rock can be lifted To reveal A neighborhood. I can walk through And ask an ant How she learned To carry burdens Many times her size. I can ask a worm How he overcomes fear Of the early bird. A rock can be cool to the touch, And soothe An inner rage. A rock can be sat upon When the struggle is over And it is time To contemplate Reasons for living. Anonymous |
A bridge To get over Rough waters. A tunnel To move through Soiled thoughts. A gust of wind To lift me Over the black cloud. A new awareness, A shift of perspective, An unveiling of truth, A surge of power From within. Knowledge of something I've always known. But, as a child, That something ate at me Like rust Eats at unprotected metal. Anonymous |
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Embraced By the wings of the Heron, My breathing resumes, And my body Begins to ease up On its protective posture. The pain From the invasion, That I tried to prevent, Shoots from my waist To my tired feet. What I thought was emptiness within I now know is a numbness Beginning to fade. Like the warmth of a fire On frostbitten hands, My body is warmed By the maternal embrace. Is the warmth from the hell I've just gone through, The glow of my soul That he never touched, Or from the immense gratitude That fills me When I'm taken in By the Heron's gaze, Her heart, And her embrace? My mind was settled When I left today. It's my body That was awakened. I'm putting words To the unspeakable. Anonymous |
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How will I know That I'm making progress? "Each day That you get out of bed Is a step forward." Will I ever be willing To allow intimacy? Will I ever be able To enjoy it? "The first Will follow the second. When the shame Has been put In its proper place, Your heart Will be free To express its love." Where is its proper place? How do I get it out Of my cells? "The shame Belongs To the rapists. Your cells Are being cleansed By each tear you cry. They are being encouraged By the truth you voice, And strengthened By your courage." Thank you for returning. "You are most welcome," The eagle said, As he flew away. Anonymous |
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One morning, an eagle came to me. After circling my yard, he landed on a rock in the river. "I have a message for you," he said in a voice that rose above the current and filled me with attentiveness. "It is time for you to rise above the pain and sorrow that has darkened your days and made your nights intolerable. Just as my wings allow me to soar above the rain clouds to the sunlit sky, your strength, wisdom, and compassion will lift you." "How do you know it is time for me to rise?" I asked respectfully. "Your wings are complete," he answered. "Just as each feather in my wings strengthens my flight, each step you have taken in your healing has prepared you for this moment." Anonymous |
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So I ask myself, "Do you still wish that he killed you after the first time?" And I answer, "Ummm yes, because a baby's corpse is hard to ignore. My stone cold flesh wouldn't be met with stone cold silence." So I ask myself again, "No really, do you still wish it?" And I answer, "Yes, really." Anonymous |
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These symptoms That you are medicating Were once my life lines. They saved me From the monster That is my brother. These symptoms That you are categorizing Meet the criteria For a courageous woman Not a Borderline. These symptoms That you have targeted To diminish and review In 90 days Are skills That have kept me From killing the bastard. Anonymous |
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Breathing is the key. What I need to remember is to breathe when I remember having my breath taken from me. Talking myself through it is the key. What I need to remember is to talk myself through it when I remember being told not to make a sound. Telling another person is the key. What I need to remember is to tell another special person when I remember thinking he would kill me. My body isn't bad is what I need to remember when I remember opening my legs. Walking, writing, and drawing helps when I become full of rage that he got away with raping me. Crying until I stop crying is what I need to do when my body remembers the attacks. Anonymous |
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Take my heart, Take my soul, Take my childhood. Make it yours. But doesn't it bother you? That you take what is pure And make it soiled. Knowing that you wish it pure And losing so much more. Time was when your was also pure. They trampled it and tore it to shreds. Why do the same to me? Watch me as I grow, Live your childhood through mine! Do not destroy us both! What will our children gain? What will you gain? What will I gain? Pain!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I once loved you Sorry I couldn't return what you lost But, My children will! BECAUSE, I WILL HEAL! Too Moons |
Put me out of my misery! The time I once thought that I was a child He was the beast of my burden. Why? I don't need your burden. I have enough of my own. My days are long My nights never end. My life never gives me time to rest. Because, you never cease to occupy my mind! What is your name? What is your pain? Let me heal Let me comfort you soul Let me be the one they couldn't be. Let me be your writing board. I can only try, But it seems never to heal. What can I do to help a soul so hurt? What can I do to help a soul so far gone? Respute. Two Moons |
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It is like a river, It flows onward, knowing not were it flows: Yet, never stopping. I stop, I challenge, I demand! What is the source of your strength? From where do you come? Could you share your strength, With one so needy? Could you take a traveled soul, bent from work and worry, And make it into a new mold? Form me, Shape me, Help me to regain my whole! BUT IT KEEPS ON FLOWING Two Moons. |
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| It Happened Once Momma's happy and daughter's sad "daddy's" pushing and son is mad It happened once, not so long ago It happened again, how can it be so? Little Girl, hold your dolly tight Already know it's not right What goes on, no one hears Only Little Girl, and her silent tears Little Girl can't stop the pain She wonders if someday, "daddy" will Once again be sane The radio plays sensual songs Little Girl doesn't want it to last so long Daddy Always forces things But the cry for help rarely rings When Momma finds out what's been Going On, "daddy" will beg for mercy And daughter will hide She knows, someday, on a magic carpet she will ride ~Name Withheld~ <This poem is often misinterpreted. This was the first poem I ever wrote about any form of abuse; when I found out what had happened within my extended family. The perp in this is a stepfather...That's why daddy is in " ". I wrote this before the repressed memories had come to the surface, about this individual in the extended family [it was also a perp to me-repressed].> |
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| A LIFE UNDONE Youth, unfolding, warped, misshapen Will it find a place in the sun? Where God's sweet rays may calm the storm, That rages deep within our soul In one's dreams, it takes it toll For in that sweet precious, second of youth, it takes courage to know that what happened, was not our fault. We Cannot Be Blamed for Our Innocence. Teri |
Untitled I Need, I Want, I Yearn, I Cry, Why not Me Love? Why pass Me by? I have good qualities, Don't I deserve, a dose of your magic, a spell with a curve? I don't understand what happened to Me Normal was not real Not meant to be and Real was not normal Never to be Me. But life goes on, and dog days go by. Little boys and girls grow up and go their separate ways into the world. Each with their own secrets. Divided, but all one body We Three Teri |
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| LONELY TEAR Clouding my vision, Do you care? From the corner of my eye, Do you love? Running down my cheek, Do you realize Dripping on your chest, Do you mind? Teri |
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| Letting Go It's funny how when the big things come and make imprints in our lives And then they die, then they go How many of us realize that we do this day in and day out, day after day? Little grievings, little losses Do we even give a notice? Every time our children go out that door their childhood slips away Dreams and goals and passions and desires drift and meld and re create themselves... I think if we can hang onto our humanity don't lose sight of those dreams That sometime in our lives we can say we lived with no regrets no matter how far flung they seem.......... Never lose sight that we can feel we can think, imagine, find meaning to our lives if nothing else......... From Shana |
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| Memories of my dad My dad is like a wild animal that can't control itself, Nice to be with, but sometimes hurting other people. My dad smells as bitter as yesterdays memories. He looks like a tall tree standing out from everything. His face is as rough as a porcupine's back, like sandpaper. When I saw him, he looked at me as if I were A fragile porcelain doll, that he could see, not keep. His eyes looked as rusty as the memories From years ago. He looked as sad as a dog locked up at the pound. A few years ago, he was like a mine field Where I had to watch my step, Or the whole place would blow up. My dad sounds like a pack of wolves crying at the moon In sadness and anger. The thing I miss most, is that his warm, Welcoming arms were like my favorite blanket In the cold winter. When I think about these things I want to cry, As if I am separated from something I treasure, And I could never imagine myself loosing. I have held on to these feelings since my mom and dad got divorced. It is so nice to get them out. These feelings about my dad are like buried treasure That someone has just discovered. written by Shana's 11 year old daughter, Rivka, who uses poetry to express her feelings of abandonment and loss issues surrounding her father. |
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| Untitled You came to me, that look in your eyes that said you owned my soul, You stole my joy, my purity, my innocence, and replaced it with despair and hopelessness, Yet the hatred for your acts caused me to be the exact opposite of what you said, If you said I was stupid, I became the top of my class, You said I was a slut, Not one person could touch my heart, You don't own me any more, I am the owner of my destiny, MY heart and my Body are my own, you don't live in my head any more nor in my life, I am the owner of my hope and dreams they are mine and mine alone, You no longer control my thoughts and fears nor my dreams, my destiny is my own. Jodi |
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| Eyes She sees the world through different eyes, eyes that have experienced terror, eyes that can no longer trust. She sees the world through different eyes, eyes that have cried a thousand tears, eyes that stare back from a mirror void. She sees the world through different eyes, eyes that see uncertainty in everything, eyes that are full of pain. She sees the world through different eyes, eyes that have know shame and degradation, eyes that beg for peace. If the eyes are window to the soul, no wonder she feels alone. Sherry |
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| Reality Reality sets in: Like the dark after sunset Like a storm in the night like a road with no end Like a flower with dead petals Like a child with no smile Like a dream with no hope Like a sky with no stars Like a field with no grass Like a day with no dawn Like a vision with no goal Reality sets in: I'm no longer me. Sherry |
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Poetry Page 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
Art Page 1, 2, 3: The Door Music Page 1 Support Pal Inspirational Stories Page 1, 2 Book Review Page 1, 2, 3, 4 |
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| Copyright © 1995-2008 Gift from Within, Camden, Maine 04843 html Conversion Copyright © 1995-2008 SourceMaine, Belfast, Maine 04915 Content may not be reproduced on websites without express permission. Please link instead. |
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12 August 2008
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