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“Survivor Art Event”

Category Archives: Writing

April 21, 2011 Little girl running

Running silently from the classroom
Little girl crying with sudden tears
A quiet little sentence
In amongst the bullies fears

He passed it to me slowly
I was a little blonde girl all of eight
Swinging on my chair in the teachers room
As she did the sums and spellings all of late

And he looked at me so solemnly
The quiet boy in the room
I had been watching him for a while
But really had not noticed him so soon

And in this little note was how
He was living here of late
Of how this person was visiting him
And doing things of horror and hate

And as I read and read
Of what this note contained
I realised why this boy was silent
The horror deeply ingrained

And swinging back on my chair
More horror yet to come
A slow tear began to trickle
And I got up from my seat and began to run

The other side of the playground
And there I began to shake and cry
The sheer horror the boy had gone through
The silence was all he could but try

And there is nothing I can really tell you
Apart from I went home from school early that day
And in the night time darkness,
My little teddy bear comforted me all the way

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January 26, 2011 Large Old Oak Tree

In an open field
So very far away
Full of green and laughter
Sits a girl wondering with misery

And there she lays out a blanket
Under a large old oak tree
Gazing around the field of flowers
You lay down beside her, not understanding

And she proceeds to tell you
A story of such horror
That she is living through
Each and every day

She sees it in her mind
It is captured in her soul
Reliving it there daily
Replaying for young and old

And she points out bits and pieces
What that monster did day after day
Leaving some of the horror,
Some just have to be left, to be told, later

She takes you through her soul
Filled with her thoughts and dreams
Detailed misery and heartaches
Love and compassion

And as she falls asleep,
Content in the field of grass
You whisper in her ear
Don’t ever leave me


www.whitedovesnest.com

December 25, 2010 The Unbelievable Beauty by Vera Milestone

The Unbelievable Beauty
By Vera Milestone
From the author that brought you Sexual Abuse Defined comes her second book, The Unbelievable Beauty. This time around, Vera Milestone shares a collection of articles about experiences of abuse and the invisible scars that never quite completely disappear.

Not everyone survives abuse. Even if they did, they never heal. The message in The Unbelievable Beauty is clear. Abuse must be stopped, or it could mean the end for the victim.

See more info and buy the book at http://www.veramilestone.com

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October 31, 2010 Poetry

The Stare

I am tired and more than ready to sleep
If you were under the weight
That is pressing me low
To soft pillows of earth where
Only the leaves and the hurrying ants
Notice my eyes and how they don’t weep.

If you lay with me there you would notice
The stare that is not from my eyes, but
From something not there,
And yet it is.

I am tired and more than ready to drift
Beyond the unshakable past
That is pressing me low
To a place I can’t feel in the
Ebbing and flowing of muscle and word
And the fog in my head is surely a gift.

If you lay with me there you would notice
The stare that is not from my eyes, but
From something not there,
And yet it is.

I am tired and more than ready to heal
Releasing the force
That is pressing me low
It’s cocky and grasps at the
Core of my soul, but I’m fighting it now
As the warmth of your hand embraces the steel.

If you lie with me here you will notice
The stare that is not from my eyes, but
From something not there,
And yet it is.

–Cedartree

My Garden

The green tomatoes are coming true, slowly, slowly.
On a vine, on a wire.
And all they do to ripen, inspire,
is calmly claim the sun.

The hope of pumpkins is coming true, slowly, slowly.
The yellow leaves
await the bees-
Swift magic for the orange plum.

The harvest days are coming true, slowly, slowly.
A ferocious peace has been relayed.
The ground is solid beneath the blade.
Seed and grief became as one.

–Cedartree

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