"FACINGFACES 2002 - 04" SELECTED POETRY

ABSTRACT

Experiences to learn from,
many lessons from which to gain,
I keep my heart and mind open,
I realize that no one is exempt from pain.

You side with a man
that has inspired you,
and lied to you.
You know not
what you do.

On the other side of the world,
a long time ago,
the voice of a little girl
crying
woke you from dreams
you can’t remember.

The shrill
of pain
that came
from her throat,
you hear it in the night,
still.

There are abstract reasons,
hidden in the paintings
of every day.

Things happen,
life happens,
and rarely is it kind.

I am just trying
to get on with being me,
and leave the haunting past behind,
yes, I’m going to leave
that haunting past behind me.

ICE PICK

It is as if he can sense
my vulnerabilities.
Smell them, even.

Deer caught
in the headlights,
nowhere to run,
to hide
from the ghost
of childhood past.
It has come
to claim me.

I had asked
the magic questions
only hours ago,
while speaking with my Father.
“How can you forgive someone
that has never
said that they were sorry?
Never owned up
to the heartbreak
that they inflicted?
The precious trust
that they destroyed?”

“Don’t be surprised”, he had said.

Five hours later,
alone, scared and off-guard,
The ringing phone
breaks the brick silence
like an ice pick
hitting the block.
This time,
it is him.

Fifteen years.
He waited
fifteen damned years
to call me and apologize.
Suddenly so sorry
that he
robbed me
of my innocence.

Could he truly be sorry
that I had suffered
because he couldn’t
keep his hands off of
little girls?

His words hung in my air
for hours.
“You were my world,
you, of all people,
I never meant to hurt you,
I mean YOU,” he said.

I tell myself
that this
is only another thing,
just another thing
to get through.

But in truth,
this is THE
thing
to get through.

I look up,
see the reflection
in the cobalt
gazing ball.

A broken little girl,
curled up
in anger and anguish.

I look down
at my knuckles,
crimson red
from the heart ache
balled tightly in my fist.

IN LIMBO

The line of reality
washes away
sands bordering
ocean shoreline
succeeding only
in further deterioration
the feeling more concrete
that we on the brink
of something larger,
not yet crystallized
my mind visits foreign lands,
previously unconsidered
my soul resides in limbo,
wanting to trust again
those things I took for granted
I cannot hate my brother,
but I fear Cain’s rage
washing away
my shoreline
I walk the distorted edge of madness
wanting to know the answers,
but discover none.

MONSTERS LIVE NEAR

Hey little girl,
I know your world,
I know you want to get away,
want to escape.
It isn’t right,
but you don’t fight
no one cares what you do,
and he pays attention to you.
Everyone around you
turns a blind eye to the abuse,
even when they know,
they refuse to accept the truth.
I recognize the cry,
but don’t know any better than you
oh sweet child, why…
why----?
One day, sister
one day, friend
women and children
will be respected,
innocence will be protected,
and we will no longer live in fear
of the monsters that live so near.
Hey, sweet baby
I know it’s hard
to watch yourself from afar,
because reality is just too hard
to take
well knowing you,
and what you’ve gone through,
makes my heart ache for you,
I think of that place,
and the innocent expression
stolen from your face.

 Authors Note: For Brooke & all abused children that have no one brave enough to stand up for them.

Rachelle Wiegand
USA