Others

Depression

A poem for Little Rainbow

Three poems about God

Were you there?

Dearest Daddy

I am a woman

My sixth birthday

I don't know how long I had to wait. Sometime later, it was the next time that we were alone together without fear that anyone would catch us I knew already about his body, he had shown me mine.

I played with him, made him happy.......

9/10/98
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To the person who is praying for me:

Sanctuary

not a little girl, hurting,
not a 22 year old woman, confused
but me, lyl
a person who is loved by you.

It doesn't matter if I am daughter, sister or mother.
The words "good" and "bad" have no meaning here.
There is only the heart, the inner truth,
all else is insignificant in your love.

The light that flows through the pink, stained glass window
is like everything else in this place, calmed, in your presence.
I too am calmed.
The struggles that tear at me daily are calmed by you.
I am grateful for this peace that you give.
I long for it in daily life but it is often far away.

Sitting here I have absolute faith in you.
Knowing your presence so closely leaves me in no doubt that you are real.
I know that when I cried you were there, arms around me, crying too.
But your tears never needed my support, they supported me.

Outside the world still turns.
People go about their lives.
I know that another little girl is being abused somewhere.
Probably more than one.
You must be there too, feeling their pain,
crying silent tears with them,
screaming silent screams with them.
And yet, you are here with me,
every step I take guiding me towards recovery.
Each breath filled with love and hope.

I don't understand you,
yet today, here in your sanctuary,
I feel closer to knowing you than I ever have before.

The god who was there in the darkness
the god deafened by silent screams,
the god who held frightened bodies
this is the god I know.

The god who loves beyond love
the god, creator of everything
the god who died on the cross
somehow this god is the same.


8/12/98
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Unfortunately in her family there was a bad, bad man. He was her father. This bad, bad man hurt her. He taught her things that no little girl should ever know. The bad, bad man and the little girl used to play games. She knew they were secret games, that no one else was allowed to know about.

The little girl made up a fantasy world, which she always carried with her, in her head. She went there when she didn't want to be in the real world. In her fantasy world she was in control of everything. There were no men, bad or otherwise, There were other little girls for her to play with. There were women, who looked after her and mothered her, but her mother wasn't there. She loved living in this fantasy world.

Later the games between her and her father weren't fun any more, she didn't want to play but he forced her to play. It hurt. The little girl thought all this was normal. She thought that this was how all fathers were. That this was just the way things were.

When she grew a lot older, she realised that some things weren't quite right. She was really angry at her father. At times she was completely overcome by a red rage, all she wanted to do was to hurt her father. She threw things at him, always keeping out of his arm's reach as she was scared of getting hurt herself.

She believed that she was a bad girl, for wanting to hurt her father. By then the games she had been playing with him had stoped, and he never even paid her any attention, and she even forgot that the games ever existed.

One day she remembered. It took a long time to remember all the games they used to play and it hurt a lot, because by then she knew that they were wrong. She had been hurt by those games. It took a long while but eventually she healed herself from the effects of what the bad, bad man had done to her. I cannot yet tell you how, as I am not at the end of this story yet but one day I will be.

2/1/99 revised 1/6/99
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Dearest Daddy

I can't get angry at you. I can get angry at other fathers. Their victims have shared stories with me. Stories like the story of what you did to me or have you forgotten?

Are you sickened by what you did? What do you think of when you pass a little girl in a supermarket? Maybe she is wearing a blue checked school uniform. Does that remind you of anything? Perhaps she has two long plats, and glasses.

Would you like to get her alone, away from her mother, in the bathroom? you could stick your .... in her face and force her to swallow the vile ........ See I can write about this without feeling any emotion. What do you think of as you read this? I remember strong hands around my neck, struggling to breathe, trying to escape outside, wanting to get to the toilet, to spu.

22/1/99
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Help

for adoption:

one five year old girl,

glasses, two long plats

genuinely tries to be good

gets on well with adults

shy, but not too quiet.

very intelligent,

destined to be a high achiever

returns any love or affection several times over

Dear Father
Look at me now, I am a strong woman, there is still the pain that you left with me but I am stronger for having lived through it.

When I look at your picture I think you are pathetic. When I saw you in the library the other day I saw a hopeless man. Now I know who you really are and I wee no reason to protect you.

Why shouldn't I stand in the mall and tell them about you, or better still on campus, before a lecture, or in the library.

Love, your daughter
Purple Rainbow


7/2/99

My father failed to recognise me. I stood on the doorstep and said that I had come to collect some of my belongings and he asked me who I was.
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You might think it is unnatural for a princess to live all alone in a castle without a door, but our heroine knew nothing else. Sweet water flowed from the well in the centre of the castle and vegetables grew on the castles roof. For entertainment she would sit in the top chamber of her tower and watch as the people of her land went about their business. She led a contented life.

One day a strange man rode over the mountains. He seemed lured towards the castle without a door. At first he rode from house to house in the village. Asking everyone who lived in the castle, and why it had no door. Then he bought the longest ladder in the village and leant it against the lowest part of the wall. It didn't reach the top.

The man then hired villagers to build a tower with a door and a staircase inside next to the castle. He then put his ladder on top of the tower but it still didn't reach the top of the castle wall. He then tried making a long rope out of platted hair. He threw it up and caught it in the vegetable garden on top of the roof. The man was half way up the rope when it broke.

Next the man got the villagers to build and operate a large battering ram. They pounded and pounded against the wall of the castle until large cracks appeared. The princess was hiding in the center, away from the noise.

As the castle had been built from the inside it crumbled outwards, squashing most of the villagers under the heavy stones. The man, who had been supervising, climbed over the rubble to rescue the princess.

I would love to tell that she went on to marry the man, who was, in fact, a prince from a far away kingdom, but the truth is that she felt so sorry for the death and injury of the villagers that she could never be truly happy again. She spent the rest of her days, wander in the land, trying to atone for the wrong she had done.

8/2/98
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Can we start again. This time I will try to look after you better. I will also try to look after myself too, as it is by doing this that I partly look after you.

I promise I will not do any more bad things to our body, well, I will try my best not to. I am going to let the other voices speak, please speak too. Can you help me decide what to do by giving your opinion, especially if you want to look after me.

Love always
Purple Rainbow

Dear Cutting,
Thank you for your many gifts that you have given me over the last two years. Many times you have saved me from a lot of emotional pain. Thank you.

Maybe now I can give you a gift. I would like to give you something that serves the same purpose but doesn't leave permanent scars on our body.

Will you accept the gift of my drawing, my pencils, paints, paper, colour, lines. With these, and my limited ability would you still be able to express yourself.

Please consider my gift if you can think of anything else please ask me.

Love
Purple Rainbow


26/2/98
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