Poems and Thoughts Page
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Reprinted excerpts may be edited for spelling and context.
The Bolt-By
M B
She blotted her bruises with makeup till they could never be found.
She's glad she can take his beatings without even making a sound.
She tiptoes around his anger never knowing what will light the fuse.
When his rage explodes like dynamite her fear seems to make him amused.
Her kids don't know what is happening She's the one who takes all his flack.
She vows in her heart if that changes she'll leave and never look back.
One night while bathing her daughter the welts on her back brought to light.
When asked, she said "Daddy hurt me". That's it! They were leaving that night!
He was passed out in bed with a bottle the children all tucked in their beds.
As scared as she was to be leaving staying now promised more dread.
She needed the courage to escape him. She wandered out to his workshop.
While digging through junk on a table a large bolt rolled and fell with a plop.
She picked up that bolt and started thinking just what that bolt was about.
It was cold, it was hard, and so strong. She would be like that bolt to get out!
She quietly packed up some clothing for her and her children so fast.
She had no clue where she was going but she had to make violence her past!
She ran with her kids and her life that night, her courage shown like that bolt in the sun.
She had to do what she knew was right. Thanx to that bolt, she finally won!
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Gone to court November him jailed 13 years in my 50s now
Poem I wrote in my 20s
When I was a small child I was badly abused
Nobody ever knew
Or was slightly moved
So I just had to live with being regularly abused
I lost my childhood it turned so sour
So when I wS little I thought of him so many hours
I became a challenge and was so misunderstood
Because in everybody's eyes I could never be any good
Tears often running down my face because I was made to feel
I'm a total disgrace and not fit to live in the human race
Even now I remember the hurt and the pain
I tried telling you once mum but it was in vein
So some days I felt a burning passion, some days so sad, some days
An eternal rage just like an animal wounded and trapped in a cage
Mum now you've passed away
I do think of you nearly every day
Why when you used to hear me cry
Why the hell didn't you bother asking me why
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HOW CAN I EXPLAIN HOW IT FEELS FOR ME SITTING HERE
KNOWING THAT MY CHILDHOOD ABUSER IS WALKING FREE OUT THERE
HE’S FREE FEELING NO REMORSE FOR WHAT HE DID TO ME
I’M BROKEN INSIDE FOREVER BECAUSE OF HIS DEEDS I’LL NEVER BE FREE
CHILDREN LIKE ME ARE LEFT PAYING A LIFE SENTENCE OF PAIN
WHILE THEIR ABUSER SOMEHOW WEALTH AND FAME CONTINUE TO GAIN
HOW DO I DEAL WITH THE CHAINS OF HIS ACTS LONG AGO THAT STILL HOLD ME CAPTIVE
I BREATH I PRAY I WONDER WHY AND STILL FIND IT HARD TO FIND THE WILL TO LIVE
AS A CHILD I RAN TO MOMMY AND DADDY BLEEDING AND CRYING THINKING THEY WOULD KNOW WHAT TO DO
INSTEAD OF HELP THEY YELLED AT ME AND SAID SHAME ON YOU
HOW CAN I FORGET BEING SENT TO MY ROOM THAT NIGHT
MOMMY APPLIED VASALINE DOWN THERE TO EASE THE PAIN AND THEN JUST TURNED OFF THE LIGHT
WHAT’S A SEVEN YEAR OLD TO ASSUME
OTHER THAN I’M GUILTY AND FLAMES OF HURT AND SHAME MY SOUL CONSUME
I REMEMBER LYING IN THE DARK CRYING INTO MY PILLOW ALL ALONE
I WOULD FOREVER BE LEFT WITH SOMETHING THAT COULD NEVER BE UNDONE
FROM THAT POINT ON I KNEW THERE WAS NO ESCAPE FROM MY ABUSER
HE WAS AND IS STILL THE PROTECTED ONE LEAVING ME SEEN AS NOTHING MORE THAN A LOSER
PEOPLE SAY HE WILL GET HIS IN THE END WHILE I SMILE AND ACHE INSIDE AT THEIR PATHETIC ATTEMPT
IF THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY HOW DARE THEY ASSUME THAT SOMEHOW THEIR WORDS ABSOLVE MY DEEP CONTEMPT
WHAT HURTS MOST AS AN ADULT NOW IS LIVING WITH THE HINDSIGHT
MY OWN MOTHER TURNED HER BACK CLOSED THE DOOR AND SHUT OFF THE LIGHT
HOW CAN I FORGET MY FATHER’S ANGER AT HOW FOR CHURCH I WAS GOING TO MAKE HIM LATE
THEY HAVE NO IDEA HOW THAT TAUGHT ME HOW TO TRULY HATE
THEY ARE THE GUILTY ONES I REALISE NOT THAT IT DOES ME ANY GOOD NOW
CHILDREN ARE EXPECTED TO HONOR THEIR FATHER AND MOTHER AND BASICALLY TO THEM IN THANKFULNESS BOW
SO WHERE DOES THAT LEAVE ME IN THE SCHEME OF THINGS
PAIN AND HURT TO ME CONSTANTLY CLINGS
WHERE WERE MY PARENTS WHEN I NEEDED THEM MOST
TO THEIR ONLY DAUGHTER IN NEED THEY MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN A GHOST
By Cara Stalzer
Abuse Survivor from the cult of Jehovah’s Witnesses
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Revilers
Tools of satan tearing down the work that God has made
full of pride and haughtiness, your "new personality" fades
Protecting men who kill a child's worth is what you do
verbally abusing the innocent in order to hide what's true
Your thoughts are not Jehovah's thoughts, and yet you have no shame
If you don't change your thinking, no blessings will you gain
Your appointment and position are the most important thing
keep up your theocratic facade, while to your lies you cling
You can fool the minds of men but Jehovah reads your heart
You think that yours is fine, while others you rip apart
The bible says, as for reviling, it is not okay
to treat your fellow in an unkind and hateful way
For true christians who are sincere, the identifying mark is love
You see, it's not an option, but a commandment from above
You act like you're so righteous and everything is fine
but the traits you dare to show, for the last days are a sign
Self-assuming, haughty, fierce and all puffed up with pride
you keep revealing to me who you really are inside
Unfounded accusations you go on the attack
so easy to betray your friends and stab them in the back
You take the side of criminals, what a hypocrite
no empathy for victims, not the slightest little bit
For those who think they know you, you wear a christian mask
how about some common decency, is that too much to ask?
Reviling is a form of slander God does not condone
one day you'll have to pay the price, just you and you alone
You will be held accountable for hateful things you say
I wonder, how will you survive the final Judgement Day?
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How do you live with it day to day?
The pain deep in your soul that won't go away
Run from it run from it, pretend it's not there suffering alone, because people don't care
Try to tell your story they close their ears about child abuse they don't want to hear
How can you live with it day to day?
When the pain and tears get in the way
Hanging on just by a thread
With thoughts of suicide running through your head
Fight it, fight it, and don’t give in
Don't let Satan make you sin
While the child abusers flat out lie
Their victims sometimes wish they could die
It's too much, it's too much, there's no relief because all the scars go way too deep
How dare they sleep so sound at night
While victims dreams are filled with fright
No conscience over what they've done
It seems as though they have won.
But you blame yourself again and again
Because you're nobody to all of them.
So how do you live with it day after day the pain and scars that won't go away?
There's something you have to realize
You are somebody in Jehovah's eyes.
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Raped and abused when I was just four
I kept screaming, stop that it hurts
As he pinned me to the floor
An ugly monster, don't remember his name
He told me this was a secret game
I felt so ashamed like I'd done something wrong
I was so small and he was so strong
Saw what he was doing when his sister came home
With 2 little girls she left him alone
I ran out the door crying in pain
And told my daddy who was to blame
He told my mommy that I had been hurt
And that she needed to come home from work
I told them the truth, I was so very brave
So that their little girl they might save
When he stole my innocence a part of me died
Why did they believe him when he lied?
No caring, no doctor, they denied my feelings
Which prevented me all these years from healing?
So I hid the pain and learned not to cry
I just kept silent and never asked why
I thought I was bad for the things that he did
Not allowed to be sad, so the feelings I hid
Later in life they suddenly appeared
Like scary nightmares they filled me with fear
I wanted to deny it, this can't be true
They aren't to blame, it must be you
I feel so dirty, disgusting and small
I have no value, worth nothing at all
What’s the point of going on
When the little girl inside me is gone.....
Wait, can't you see down deep inside
There she is, that's me
It’s safe to come out, no need to hide
The truth will set you free
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Spoke with you the other day
I was so angry with you
Never expected you to say
You’re making yourself new
How could you?
You stole my essence
Destroyed my being
You took our daughter
Took her innocence
You signed our death warrants
Aren’t you seeing????
You’re moving on
Asking for forgiveness
You’re leaving us here
Drowning in this sin
But Jehovah will forgive you
And we are left within
We will never have
What it is you have found
You took it from us
Left us here to drown
DAMN YOU
You left us here to drown!
Why do you get forgiven?
Why do you find peace?
Why do you get happiness?
Leaving us to cease?
Your actions killed our beings
Destroyed our minds
Made us weak
So you could have your time
DAMN YOU!!!!!!
You made us drown!
You hurt our bodies
Nothing to compare
With the destruction of our essence
Leaving too much to bear
I sacrificed for our daughter
My entire soul
Thinking you would never harm her
Until she told
Now she is angry
Hurt and confused
You sentenced her to hell
I was so used
But you get to heal
B/c you asked Jehovah
How dare you leave us?
In this mess you made
How dare you heal?
With all that you steal
I wish I had killed you
In that moment when I could
Now I live knowing
I never would
I am not like you
I can not take a life
But you took mine
The day you took Hannah’s
Now we live in death
To be alive in this death
Comes from you
To live in purgatory
And you knew
How dare you heal?
From all you have caused
How dare you ask Jehovah?
Leaving us lost
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Pat Garza passed away
Though we have never met,
I feel very close to you.
We both have been through
more than humans should have to.
And like Rizpah of Bibical times.
I lost my two children too.
10 years ago, and who would ever know,
besides someone who has gone through
the pain to right the wrong
to protect the innocent.
Even so it is not the will,
of our Father in Heaven,
that one of these little ones perish
Like you I could not deal with the burden,
of no justice being done.
So I end up with a broken heart,
And no answers-only questions.
Like you I pray-on God's Great Throne
For peace on earth,
and justice too-for all our children.
Roberta Grace Moore
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Rebirth Of Innocence
Stratified heights these men did reach,
veracity their claims would they teach.
Sharing the throne with Gods they said,
believed by laymen and fools who bled.
Above any Adamic sin left for mortal mass,
proclaimed princes among men a special class.
In trust they lived in cloistered power,
Deeming our lives by minute and death by hour.
In glory and splendor they strode in pride,
unbeknownst to all their malevolent side.
With trust the innocence was torn,
With fear the innocent memories have been reborn.
With faith the trust was taken and destroyed,
with anger the trusting no longer employed.
No where to run, no where to hide,
loss of self, loss of pride.
Who would believe the innocents tale of sin?
The princes where told to keep all within.
Answers where found but only after much pain,
truth escapes through a maze nightmarish insane.
But harken to the distant horizons scene,
a large edifice corrupt and Godlessly obscene.
Showing structural faults once thought sound,
now the cracks run up her side and round n round,
Soon this edifice will crumble with nary a sound,
for no one will care or even bother to be around.
Then the memories will soon fade into the mist,
and the innocence stolen will be reborn and gently kissed.
Let Me Play
Let me play
So my golden curls can sway
Let me play
Spend a carefree endless day
Let me play
Be happy and go to be as I pray
Let me play
Roll in the grass on a sunny day
Let me play
So that my childhood will with me stay
Let me play
Let me play
For I am your future
Realize we may have no other day
So! Let me play
Mark P
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Mom, how come you let me cry?
I am scared and all alone.
That man you married, he told a lie,
Is this what you condone?
Mom, you should have helped me.You should have seen the danger signs.Mom, this crime just cannot be,Someone needs to pay the price
Mom, damn you, you took his side,and the elders, they took it too.Mom, I know God will not abideBy the horrible things they do.
Mom, you died with a heavy heart,and he went on to hurt others.Mom, I will heal then I will start,to support my hurting brothers.
Cheri R�August 2003
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Dear Dad
An abuse survivor writes a letter to her father
Dear Dad
I am 35 years old now, a grown woman, still 13 years your junior to when you started molesting me, when you were 48 and I was only 15 years old. Did you notice I used the word abuse? Oh you don't like that word well let me try another, child molester. Oh you don't agree with that either?!! What would you call it then? An affair - don't make me laugh.
I was 15 years old, you were 48 and you were my dad. I was young, you were way too old and you were my dad. I had never dated or had my first kiss, you were married and you were my dad. I was tall and very beautiful, you were short and fat and you were my dad. I have never fancied you or looked at you in a sexual way, never ever but you fancied me and looked at me sexually when I was your daughter and you were my dad.
I lay there, stiff as a board whilst you rubbed yourself up and down on me until you came and you were my dad. I never touched you, I just lay there whilst you touched my body all over and you were my dad. Inside I screamed NO NO NO but I never said anything because you were my dad.
What's that? Yes, you are right I told you that I loved you because you were my dad. Yes, I held your hand because you were my dad. Yes, I asked you if you loved me because you were my dad. But I never wanted you as a lover because you were my dad. I never said no, I didn't want to hurt your feelings because you were my dad. I wanted to throw up because it was SO disgusting and you were my dad. I once froze because I felt so nauseous and so close to throwing up and you asked whether I'd come and if so you'd stop and I lied so you would stop because you were my dad.
I would tell you I felt guilty and couldn't pray anymore to make you stop rather than tell you how disgusting it all was because you were my dad. I didn't tell anyone because you were my dad. I felt guilty when you called me your favorite in front of my siblings because you were their dad. I felt guilty and thought I was the "other woman" that mum didn't know about but I wasn't - you were my dad, an abuser and a molester. I am 35 years old and now I say again you molested me, abused me, brain washed me and you could do all these things because you were my dad.
You crawled into my bed, took me into mum's bed, told me things about your sex life with mum that no child should hear and you were my dad. You damaged me in ways you can't even begin to understand and stole my adolescence away from me and you were my dad. When I was so overwhelmed with guilt and you found out that I had stopped praying then you would stop crawling into my bed and sit on my bed and pray for me but that still made me feel sick and inside I was still screaming NO NO NO. Do you know that I haven't been able to pray for the last 20 years? You should be ashamed of yourself because you were my dad.
You did all this and then if I talked to a boy, I repeat TALKED to a boy, you called me a whore or a slut - you shouldn't have called me those awful names because you were my dad. You hit me at 13, 19 and 30 each time was very traumatic and more humiliating and you were my dad.
I was imprisoned from the outside world, no friends at school, no friends at church - I was isolated from the world - tell me why dad? Scared I would tell? When I finished school I worked for the family business, no college. Tell me why dad? Scared I would tell? When I wanted my first boyfriend at 18 years old you said no and banned us before we even knew if we really liked one another. Tell me why dad? Scared I would tell. When I was 19 years old you said I could never see him again; "not now, not ever". Tell me why dad? Scared I would tell?
When I finally had the courage to speak out and get help you convinced the elders on the committee, and mum at the time, that we'd had an affair; but years later I doubt even they believe that any more because I was your child and you were my dad. For a long time I was shocked when I heard the words incest, abuse, molestation because for years you told me it was an affair but it wasn't - you were my dad.
Since I was 19 years old when I had the courage to speak out and within a month you had taken my whole family 3,000 miles away to the US, I have traveled those 3,000 miles two or three times a year and busted a gut to keep my family and build bridges with you. Do you know why? Because they were my family and you were my dad.
When you still continued to talk crazy I did not shut you out of my life because you were my dad. You got bent out of shape when you found out I had told my story to siblings, husbands, friends or therapists but this is my story and my way of coping and you should not have criticized or blamed me for trying to find a way to cope with all this because you were my dad.
You let me down in the worst possible way, you set me up for failure with your verbal, physical, psychological, spiritual, emotional and sexual abuse and you were my dad.
So I stand up proud today and say:
"My name is W X X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor. It was not my fault. I did not participate. I was manipulated and abused and fondled and molested. I was confused and scared and hurt. I was full of shame and guilt and pain."
So I say it again:
"My name is W X X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor. It was not my fault. I am not to blame. I did not participate. You manipulated me and you were my dad. You abused me and you were my dad. You fondled me and you were my dad. You molested me and you were my dad. I feel no shame I feel no guilt and I give you back the shame, the blame, the guilt and the pain."
"My name is W X X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor and you dad cannot get into my bed anymore."
"My name is W X X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor and you dad cannot get into my head anymore."
"My name is W X X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor and you dad cannot violate my body anymore."
"My name is W X X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor and you dad cannot get into my spirit anymore."
"My name is W X X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor and you dad cannot get into my energy anymore."
"My name is W X X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor and you dad cannot get into my emotions anymore."
"My name is W X X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor and you dad cannot interpret the past for me anymore."
"My name is W�X�X I am 35 years old and an incest survivor and your daughter, dad. You are L X X, you are 68 years old and a perpetrator, an abuser and a child molester, a bully and a terrible father, but still, you are my dad."
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a poem to my sisters:
COMMON BONDS
Flowers fading... into the night
The winds... that blow away The falling of an oak... with all of it's might
Dose nothing... really stay?
The beautiful birth... of a child that's fare
The seed of life... in a child
The dream of a child... so precious and rare
Then life disappears... in a while
Agony... resulting in hurt
A merry go round... and round
Dose something make it... all a-worth?
A reason that makes it... all sound?
We all are a game... to the devious rat
Who uses us... just for play
Then crumples us up... like a used party hat
And tosses us... simply away
There's a hope deep within... that death can not touch
The pain only last... for a while
But the hope held within... can heal all the pain
And leave our hearts... with a smile
The hope held within... is more than just hope
We know that there's more... than we see
It isn't a dream... a wish... or a hope
Your heart really knows... what will be
You can not deny... God's deep love
He doesn't love... only a few
He feels for us all... he worries for each
He cares for... the sinner too
He opens his heart... to the wander
He opens his arms... to the sad
He's there for the grieving... and those without hope
And he's love us... despite... when we're bad
He doesn't stop loving... because were not good
He doesn't give up... on the lost
He isn't demanding... despite our mistakes
His Son paid... our sin's cost
He patiently waits ... for eyes will see
And ears... that wish to hear
He never will force us... to do what he wants
He shows us true love... without fear
He doesn't scold... when we are wrong
He loves us... back to his arms He doesn't want... for us to be forced He dose not... threaten with harm
He's patient and kind... He's loving and good He's everything... we should be He's honest and open... He's gentle and calm He's wants his children... Free
Free from force... Free from fear Free from anger... and woe Free from hatred... Free from greed Free from the sins... we all know
He never... will force us... to love him Our prayers... he dose not shun He does... not... ignore us Or say... we're not worthy... of his Son
He doesn't... stop loving us... ever He treats all his children... the same He dose not... show a preference He doesn't punish... with shame.
He loves... all of us... with great wisdom As a father... loves... his child He never... will falter... in this love He is constantly... patient... and mild
So do not forget... that he loves you And do not pretend... he's not there Always remember... he knows our hearts And faithfully... always will care
Remember... the faith... in our minds Don't let... the odds... tear you down Remember... the hope... for all human kind Keep your dreams... in your heart... And your feet... on the ground... Tamar 1999
AN ENDING
I had a child, a baby boy
Who was my pride, my greatest joy
Some evil men took him from me
And wouldn't let his mind go free
They gave him back and laughed with glee
The mask he wore was hard to see
I didn't know he was so sick
I thought he was the best
I believed the lies he told
And made our lives a mess
I truly didn't know that he
Would hurt someone so small
Or be a brother other than
The one he showed to us all
I don't know where my son's mind went
The day that those men took him.
I just know, when I got him back,
My real son was missing.
By Cheri
My Thoughts
The Dragon Slayers
by Loris J Matheny *
The Dragon Slayers have come;
The strong of heart,
Great battles they have won.
The Dragon Slayers have come;
They fight a fine fight,
Never do they turn and run.
One by one they come;
A challenge for the Dragon,
But they are slain- every one.
Two by two they come;
They fight in teams
Because two are stronger than one.
Ten by ten they come;
The Dragon leaves the safety of the cave,
In the open it fights on.
Legion by legion they come;
The Dragon fights, the Dragon tires,
The dead cover the ground like dung.
The small child has come;
The Dragon is weak from years of battle,
The child throws a single stone.
The end for the Dragon has come;
Defeated by the Dragon Slayers,
Brought down in the end by one.
COMES THE DAWN
After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
and you learn that love doesn't mean security,
and you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes open,
with the grace of a women, not the grief of a child,
and you learn to build all your roads
on today because tomorrow's ground
is too uncertain. And futures have
a way of falling down in mid-flight,
after a while you learn that even sunshine
burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate
your own soul, instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
that you really are strong,
and that you really do have worth
and you learn and learn
with every good-bye you learn.
______________________________
The day of innocence
Of new thoughts
And joy
And peace
And light
Rip the page from my book
A blackness, a haze, a haunting of spirit
You look at me
And your eyes are now empty
Your soul is dark
And your form is cavernous, ashen, looming and daunting
I look into your face and search for some semblance of the person I know
And trust.
But that one is gone
or maybe I was mistaken: you were never there.
Time slips into the grey, to unrecognizable figures and sounds
Yet deep in me is a song, a drumbeat to which I must dance
A chance.
I lift my shamed face and open my eyes
and crawl free
Refusing one last, backward glance
Turn off the roar in my head
Shake off the chills in my skin
I now stand
And I feel the rain, warm and singing
Washing you from me
Now I see the Son.
And in the reflection at my feet I see:
The joy
The peace
The light
And I don’t need you anymore
Now I hold small hands and see little faces that look like mine, before.
And they trust me, and are looking in my eyes.
Like the widow with coins of small worth,
I have learned to give from what I never received
To lift water from an empty well
And give it willingly and free.
But I would like you to know
You will not cage my soul;
And my spirit is not chained and wears it’s scars as badges of courage.
To you I owe nothing.
You are fading and I must be going
Life is sweeter, things to do, life to live, air to breath. Willow
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The Only One
A troubled child with vacant eyes sits quietly alone with not much to say,
He killed her puppy and said she would be next if she told her friends at play.
A father who betrayed her trust, violated her innocence and left her emotionally numb,
To afraid to confide or tell anyone, she cries inside, thinking she is the only one.
One day in a moment of trust she tells her mom the atrocity that happened to her,
The one person she needed to believe her the most instead increased the hurt.
Her mommy cried, then said she lied perhaps it was all just harmless fun,
She wonders did it really happen or am I just crazy? I must be the only one.
As she grows older with courage mustered to the elders she now goes,
The men she trusted for justice call her a liar so no one will have to know.
With a pedophile’s denial she’s told to be silent or she will be shunned,
Her heart is crushed she feels so alone she believes she is the only one.
With pain so great she thinks she will burst, confides in a friend who turns her in,
While the child molester is an elder she is told she has committed the greater sin.
Charged with slander as the announcement is read she sits in the audience stunned,
Her friends are gone, her parents turn away, why am I the only one?
A silentlamb she’s been for years as the pain continues it’s hard to face her fears,
One day she learns she is not alone by reading of victims who share her tears.
With righteous outrage a roaring lamb to help the children her healing has begun,
To finally be believed and given support with slow realization she’s not the only one.
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To The Silent Lambs. 13/08/01 14:24
It is good to hear the "Silent Lambs" speaking out. You all have suffered and are still suffering. Let me tell you what I did when I was traumatized. (It wasn’t by sexual abuse: earlier in life, yes). I studied all the Psalms. They are, as you know, prayers, written in exquisite Hebrew poetry. I read them, studied them, meditated upon them and prayed to get them into my heart and my mind. I wrote them in poetry form, in the modern idiom. I did not write an academic treatise. I concentrated on those things that told me what was in the poet’s mind and heart. I wanted to see the depth and intensity of appeal and the urgency of tone. I wanted to see, as it were, his tears and hear his cries and feel his beating heart. In this way I could relate them to myself. Then I would write the poem. The style and meter of each poem reflected the mood: sometimes of course the Psalm was full of elation and joy. This provided light relief and balance. I would constantly pray to get the flow of thoughts, until I got it right. Our heavenly Father never let me down. It took me about six months: I was so spiritually refreshed! I did not set out to write a masterpiece and I did not seek to replace God’s inspired Word. But I found great comfort: I had shed my burdens and I was readjusted. This form of cure I recommend to you.
Another thing I did was to study all of John’s writings, particularly his first letter. I used J.B. Phillips New Testament and more recently I obtained William Barclay’s excellent commentary of I John. Think about this: John was very old when he wrote his first letter. He had a lot of time to absorb the things that Jesus had done and said. He had been in "the bosom position" he knew every trait and nuance of his master. Can you see the logic here: if we could fully understand John’s words, then we too could be in the "bosom position" This is surely an antidote for those who have been savaged by wolves and treated contemptuously by so-called shepherds of the flock. Please look at the way Phillips puts 1 John 3:2 "Oh dear children of mine (forgive the affection of an old man), have you realized it? Here and now we are God’s children." An obvious question one asks here is, "Why? Why if we are His children does He allow these things to happen to us?" Let me try to explain the way I see it.
God is "The Greatest" in all departments. How, for example can we know of God’s almighty power but by demonstration? What happened at Egypt all those years ago is still reverberating around the universe today. Can one defy God and cruelly oppress his people with impunity? "Egypt" is a timeless reminder, a byword! It resoundingly says "No!" Be fully assured about this that God will vent his anger today against those who abuse his children and those that shield them. He will visibly demonstrate his love for his dear ones. Even now there are courageous men and women who are "knocking on people’s doors". Behind some of these doors are government officers in London and Washington D.C. who have before them on their desks right now, documents stating the facts about your mistreatment. This is right: they, by God’s appointment are rulers, the "Caesars" of this world. Others are being disturbed by a constant "knocking on their doors", doors to their ivory towers.
Do you want to know the constitution of a new administration? Then please read the letter to the Hebrews. It speaks of a king/priest administration. The power vested in the king is tempered by the compassionate understanding of the priest. Does the word "priest" concern you? Then in the writer’s words, "Consider Jesus, he was an apostle and a priest" Think about it; an apostle is one that is "sent out" a priest is one that appeals to God on our behalf at the "mercy seat" and consequently, blessings flow to all supplicants. This two-way involvement will characterize the new administration: the order of Melchizedek. The king’s sword will come down heavily on any that try to usurp power to themselves for their own glory: the ivory towers will go: abuse of the lambs stems from abuse of authority. Furthermore it would comfort us to know that this "order of Melchizedek" would be the order of the day, the status quo, by God’s sworn oath
Silent lambs, rise up like lions, reassert your dignity as one of God’s children. Proudly flaunt your flowing mane, your glory; not like that proverbial ball of wool that was tight and knotted and tangled, symbolic of your mangled emotions. Seek the comfort that God gives, "His rest". (Spiritually minded Russians have an expression "We are resting in the bosom of God") There is no shame or loss of dignity residing "in the bosom of God." Please accept this letter of mine. It is written in the spirit of 2 Corinthians 1:4, 5 (J. B. Phillips) "For he gives us comfort in our trials so that we in turn may be able to give the same sort of strong sympathy to others in theirs. Indeed, experience shows that the more we share Christ’s suffering the more we are able to give of his encouragement"
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I feel the society must come forward and swallow their pride and admit their
mistakes and their back turning, maybe people might have a little respect for
them. The society must write letters of apologies to the
victims/survivors/and families of the abused. A list of all convicted and/or
confessed or exposed and confessed molesters must be posted in the WT and
Awake and also posted with a picture of the abuser in all Kingdom Halls,
convention sites and assembly halls and in the restrooms. If the abuser or
the society feels that this would be an invasion of privacy or be harmful to
the reputation of the abuser..TOO BAD...the molester invaded the privacy of
the abused and harmed the abused sexually, emotionally, mentally, sometimes
physically and spiritually (abuse kills the spirit of the child and may often
kill their faith in Jehovah). If the molester doesn't think this is fair,
they don't have to attend meetings, that it, plain and simple! All abusers
must be reported to the authorities immediately, and when the elders know of
the abuse, they too are responsible to report the case whether the
congregation is in a mandated state or not, (the city council may pass a law
stating that if anyone knows or suspects child abuse and doesn't report it,
then they will be guilty of a crime). All cases of abuse, involves all of us
really, it is our moral and Christian obligation to report and to support and
validate the abused. (I know of some JW's who have reported their brothers
and sisters to the elders for things as petty as slight gossip). Why are the
friends so afraid? They should put themselves in the shoes of the abused
child and imagine for a moment how frightened the child/youth was at the time
of the abusing...imagine knowing that this person, who the child may have
trusted and loved, touches them, fondles them, masturbates on them, performs
oral sex on them, or makes them perform oral sex on them, maybe takes
pictures of them, sodomize them, rapes them, sure not all these things may
have happened, but some of our loved ones have faced this situation. Imagine,
living with your abuser, eating at the same table, sleeping in the same
house, sitting next to them at the halls, having this person tell you they
love you and then on top of all that, you see them giving talks, preaching,
praying and telling you to be a good little boy or girl because Jehovah loves
good little girls and boys. Telling them when they cry..stop it or I'll give
you something to cry about....the abuser already gave them something to cry
about-for the rest of their lives. The abuser betrayed the child's trust,
took their innocense, gave them a reason to doubt whether Jehovah is alive,
or that he doesn't hear the poor child's prayers to please make daddy stop
hurting me, Jehovah why don't you hear me? My God, what are people
thinking...its just that they are not thinking. The abuser has put his shame
onto the victims(when the shame isn't theirs) to be carried with for the
rest of their lives, until they heal emotionally and spiritualy. Well shame of
the abusers and all those who cover up, and support them. How can a person
heal spiritually , when the shepherds turn their backs on them and never stand
up for them and their families, then tell them or their families not to warn
other families of this monster, otherwise they too may face being marked or
disfellowshipped. Where is the justice in this? I feel, and I know I speak
for others when I say, no field service (without intensive therapy) no public
talks, no privileges (why should a child molester be rewarded, simply because
they make all the meetings,) no doing side jobs or helping out where there
are children/teens present or live. There is NO EXCUSE anymore..the elders
can no longer say: We didn't know what to do-This is new to us-We are not
professionals-We are imperfect. Well, now the elders know what to do and many
elders are standing up for the victims/survivors, only to be condemned for
their actions, and this is not new to the elders-look back at all previous
cases they have never been properly handled, the elders are not
professionals, I feel some of them are not empathic enough to be
professional, then learn, take courses, volunteer, make visits to child abuse
trauma centers, look into the eyes of a victim/survivor and see the pain,
bitterness and righteous anger! Don't look away...don't be afraid..we will
not hurt you the way our molesters hurt us. The society needs to take some of
the money donated to have abuse awareness centers in each hall, have
qualified and checked out people to volunteer their time to take courses on
child abuse, hand out resources and information to families, and children. I
am a full time worker and I have found the time to volunteer my time with
three abuse awareness organizations, the "friends" can too. Going out in
field service to further the kingdom news? The elders could show their
support to victims/survivors and( hopefully not) future victims but
encouraging the members to put some volunteer time into helping in the abuse
awareness centers in the halls, or in each circuit. Let us not put off this
urgent situation that is taking place in kingdom halls across the country and
internationally, we have to face the facts whether we want to or not, we can
no longer act like the three monkeys and see no evil, speak no evil and hear
no evil......our children need our protection and our support and this is
what Jehovah wants..to provide for the orphans and an abused child is
considered an orphan if no one provides or cares or supports them mentally,
emotionally and spiritually.............From a mother and sister of incest
victims/survivors and the mother and sister of verbally, mentally,
emotionally abused children.
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I believe Watchtower Policy should be changed. For people to get hurt and the ORGANIZATION not do anything and cover it up, tells me there is a problem with the organization, not the people. Yes, the people have a problem, but the organization is the blame by covering it up, and making people stay silent.
As for the people that have abused or molested a child: GET HELP. You cannot expect to recover by reading a bunch of information and pray to get your healing. Yes, praying might put you back in your personal relationship with God, but as for your mental health, you need professional help.
The organization: you need to change your policy and protect the flock. It is YOUR responsibility to help those in need. Don’t sit around and do nothing. Report it to the police. It is a crime to abuse and molest children or anyone. Not only does it make the people of the congregations look bad but also Jehovah. To Him, I believe it is a big slap in the face when you refuse to do the right thing. So make a rule, “If you are molested or hear of a molestation, don’t hesitate, report to the police.”
As for the congregation: You all need to take a stand and march for the right truth. Don’t be afraid of the organization. Look at what they are! It seems they are a bunch of child molester PROTECTORS! So if you want to be a part of an organization that supports sickness, then go on. But if you want to be a part of an organization who loves and supports God and love, join in and help Brother Bowen and others march for what is right.
I believe that I would still be a part of Jehovah’s Witnesses if this was not a problem. But the facts I am reading tell me there is a problem. I am sorry there are sick people in the world that need help, but it is their choice to get it. I cannot make myself follow a religion that hides child molesters.
To all who read this, I had a child molesting case happen right in my own home. It all brought this weird world I have never saw before in the Jehovah’s Witnesses organization. It made me see a problem. No, I was not molested, but someone I love very much was and I was hurt when I learned she was told to keep silent about it. And just to think, thousands of people have had this happen to them, blows my mind. I can’t imagine all the hurt the people have gone through.
So as far as I am concerned, I will not claim a religion that covers up such cases. I hope one day all this can be forgiven and cleared up, but I know it won’t happen until Watchtower Policy is changed.
Written by a fifteen year old sister.
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"BED OF TEARS"
She sits upon a bed of tears
All alone and full of fears
She can not comprehend
Why the boo boos do not mend
So she stares upon the wall
And in her childish prayer does call
I want my daddy to come here
to protect me from my fear
But to daddy I can not call
for he is the meanest of them all
He whispered he loved me and said not to tell
But when he touched me I wanted to yell
He hurt me bad and made me cry
He said he loved me, so I don't know why
Can you hear me Jesus, are you awake?
I don't want to bother you, but my daddy I hate
Please forgive me for being bad
I know I make my daddy mad
He told me if I don't be good
While by my bedside he stood
I'm afraid he will love me no more
He said be good, like the times before
But Jesus it hurts when he loves me at night
I want to tell Mommy, but then they will fight
I want to go away to be with you
But I have to know, do you hate me too?
Dedicated to my daughter
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I cannot seem to yell loud enough to be heard,
I cannot seem to breath deep enough to catch my breath
I cannot seem cry hard enough to get rid of the pain,
I cannot seem to think long enough to find the solution
I cannot seem to dream high enough to find another way,
I cannot seem to run fast enough to escape it
I cannot seem to hold my chin up high enough to keep from drowning in it,
I cannot seem to focus my eyes enough to become enlightened
I cannot seem to speak softly enough to suffer on my own,
I cannot seem laugh enough to convince myself it's not there
I cannot seem to reason with myself logically enough to be convincing,
I cannot seem to argue with myself strong enough to straighten it out
I cannot seem to find enough words to explain to anyone,
I cannot seem to be alone enough for it to hush
I cannot seem to be with anyone that will understand,
I cannot be free enough to look..................................................TLFS
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Today, April 20th is the fourth anniversary of a very special day in my
life, the anniversary of my rebirth.
This rebirth was not a religious experience, but it was something totally
pure, amazing and healing.
It had nothing at all to do with the Society, or rather, of freeing myself
from it.
It was however, a giant first step in that direction.
Today is the fourth anniversary of the day I got letter that changed
everything. The words on the pages were alive, and magical: they released me
from my old life and for the first time. I saw life no longer in black and
white. I saw it in rich, glorious Technicolor.
I stopped seeing in tunnel vision. Finally, my eyes broadened and saw the
full scope of my life. Not just what it was at the time (which was in
shambles) but what it could be.
Four years ago today, Justin said, "I love you."
I was at the time quietly going about the business of getting my affairs in
order. Planning my exit from this life into what I believed would be a
peaceful sleep, free of pain. I thought so little of myself at the time the
man I was married to at the time convinced me that I was worth so little,
that I imagined my child would be better off if she were raised by someone
else. Someone who could be happy, because I didn't believe I ever could be.
With this declaration that he loved me, without expecting anything in
return, Justin gave me the keys to freedom. Even though I never imagined
then that we would ever meet in person, he said that he knew the position I
was in, that I was "trapped", and that he would be there to be my friend,
supporter, a safe place for me to fall apart, no matter what happened.
Even though he was hundreds of miles away from me, and I'd never heard his
voice or seen his face other than in pictures, I felt closer to him than I
ever had to anyone in the world. I knew that he accepted me exactly the way
that I was: something that no one else in my life had ever done, especially
not my Witness family.
I didn't have to be anything or do anything to earn his love. In fact, I
didn't even try to make him love me: it just happened and it shocked the
hell out of both of us. He didn't know how I would react to his
announcement. He told me later that he believed that I'd never speak to him
again after he said what he felt.
At the time I felt a sadness about loving him in return. I didn't believe I
could ever get free of the man who controlled everything in my life. The man
who I had to ask for five dollars if I wanted to take my child to McDonalds:
the man who told me what I should wear, how much I should weigh, how to wear
my hair, and what I was allowed to think and feel. The man who called me
every filthy name in the book and berated my performance as a mother at
every opportunity, the man I could never, ever please no matter what I did.
It was with those three magic words, the greatest gift anyone has ever given
me that I began to even imagine that my life could be different. They broke
the spell of the words that Mike had been saying to me for so long: Words I
still hear echoed in my nightmares.
"Do you think anyone will treat you better than I do?"
The road to freedom was built with that first stone. From that day I began
building my path to freedom, even though I didn't realize at the time that
was what I was doing. Though it seemed impossible to even fathom on the day
I read Justin's letter, just four days short of a year later I was legally
divorced, and planning to meet Justin in person for the first time (which
happened a month after the divorce was final).
Without Justin I certainly wouldn't be alive today. He gave me a new life,
and that in turn helped create a totally new life for my child as well. I am
grateful to him for so many reasons. He not only gave me the gift of his
love, he showed me how to begin to accept myself, and that gave me the
vision to create a new life.
I never imagined that I'd ever stand before him, look into his eyes and be
able to hear him whisper I love you in my ear. But he believed in me. And in
beginning to see myself through his eyes, I realized that I was a hell of a
lot stronger than I ever imagined.
So celebrate with me today, my friends. Remember that no matter how
desperate your life seems at times, that one day, one hour, one moment can
change it forever for the better.
Rejoice in the possible that rises above the improbable: the victory over
obstacles that everyone in our lives considered insurmountable except the
two of us.
Don't let anyone tell you what you can't be. Instead trust in the ability
you have to be anything that you want.
Peter Gabriel said what I'm trying to say very well in the song
"Wallflower":
"They put you in a box
so you can't get hurt
let your spirit stay unbroken,
may you not be deterred:
Hold on...
You have gambled with your own life
and you face the night alone
while the builders of the cages
sleep with bullets, bars and stone,
They do not see your road to freedom,
that you build with flesh and bone."
I remember the first things we said to each other when we finally met in
person for the first time.
I'd been pacing the airport terminal for hours before his plane came in. I
remember that there was a man waiting for a flight who was watching me, all
dressed up, pacing back and forth. He smiled at me as I wrung my hands
nervously, I think that he thought that I must be waiting for God himself to
pull up to the gate.
When the plane finally arrived, it seemed as though a million senior
citizens made their way down the jet way. The crowd finally started to thin,
and I thought, "Oh God, he changed his mind, or missed his plane, or..."
Then suddenly, there he stood. It was just like watching his picture come to
life, and I had never seen a more breathtaking sight in my life. He finally
made his way through the crowd and walked up to me. I don't remember this,
but he tells me that I had my hands over my mouth when I said my first words
to him:
"Oh my god, look at you!"
He reached out and touched my face, gently, as if he was
afraid that I'd disappear if he got too close.
"Why were you worried? Why on earth were you worried? You're
so beautiful." he whispered.
(I had told him that I hoped he wouldn't be disappointed when he finally saw
me in person)
He hugged me and buried his face in my hair and said "You smell so good..."
and I laughed.
We stood there in the terminal for a long time, just hugging. He finally
whispered I love you, and I said it back, words that we'd waited more than a
year to say in person. The most
beautiful sound I'd ever heard in my life.
We were both shaking really hard and pale as ghosts, so we decided to sit
down. We sat in seats at an empty gate and stared at each other.
We held hands so tightly our fingers went numb, and when we felt like we
could walk toward baggage claim, we only got so far before he finally
stopped walking, turned to me and kissed me.
I will never forget what he said after that first kiss. We'd already
discussed marriage at that point, but still it was amazing to hear:
"That's it...now that you've kissed me, you have to marry me. You don't have
a choice."
If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget the joy I felt at that
moment.
We were married one year and two weeks from that day.
To those of you still fighting...don't give up on finding love, happiness,
and peace in this life. It can happen. I'm living proof.
To Justin, who is now my husband, Thank you Imzadi, for not giving up and
walking away like everyone warned you to do, thank you for believing in me,
when I couldn't believe in myself, for seeing that goal at the end on days
when my eyes were too clouded by tears to see it myself. You truly saved me
"in every way a person can be saved."
I love you, with all my heart.
~Lily Paige, April 2001
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Lyrics ...... He Ain't Heavy. He's My Brother - Written by B. Scott and B. Russell
The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows when
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another
It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
He's my brother
He ain't heavy, he's my brother...
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The Hero Falls:
Remembering a young life lost to suicide
The first thing I remember when I try to picture him in my mind is that he wasn't terribly tall. He had a nice shock of sandy colored hair, bangs that tended to lean over one eyebrow in an appealingly lopsided fashion. His smile was enchanting. His hands moved with fluid grace as they translated the talks on the program from spoken words into American Sign Language. He was, to my sixteen year old mind, poetry in motion. Oh yeah, I was smitten. It wasn't as if I ever thought for a moment that I had a chance with him. No way. It wasn't about that, it was more akin to hero worship, I suppose. Dangerously close, perhaps, even to the forbidden "idolatry". He was a few years older than I, a full-time Pioneer. A shining example in his congregation. Girls buzzed around him like bees to honey and I figured that shy, awkward, self conscious me had no chance in the world of becoming a reoccurring character in his life. Still, he was a very good flirt. He made it plain that he noticed me. I believe now it was in terms of thinking that in a few years, I'd be pretty cute. It all began this way.
I had no clue that this would be different from any other convention, until he and a few friends swept into the cafeteria, where people were choking down their regulation Circuit Assembly runny scrambled eggs and burned toast. I remember his entrance distinctly because he was whistling. I tried in my mind to picture the song that it was, and finally, recognizing it, I laughed: It was the theme song from Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. I was eating pre-packaged chocolate pudding, which was the only thing on the Assembly Hall menu that I could tolerate. He approached with the excuse of speaking to my older sister, who knew his family well. He introduced himself, offered his hand and shook mine firmly, without hesitation. He sat in the empty seat beside me. "Hi neighbor." I said, referencing his whistled tune. He laughed. "Won't you be my neighbor?" he said with a grin.
I am thinking now that he thought, at first sight, that I was older than I actually was. That happened to me often. He noticed what I was eating right away and commented on it. I responded, "It's the real breakfast of Champions. Champion what, though, I have no idea." He laughed. He proceeded to eyebrow wiggle, wink, and otherwise charm me all through breakfast. He was so unlike any other Witness guys I knew, especially those born-in. From that moment on, he became a symbol to me of the kind of man I wanted to marry one day. Maybe someday, I'll have a prayer with someone like him, I thought. That original breakfast meeting was very early Saturday morning. Since he was translating most of the talks, I had the opportunity to watch him, unnoticed, over the edge of my notebook as I mindlessly recorded scripture chapter and verse but didn't hear a thing that the speaker was saying. His voice droned on like so much white noise as I watched my Hero sign. For those two days of that assembly I saw, nor heard, anything else. He held my rapt attention. He was the image of all I'd prayed to find. I'd asked God to show me one, just one, young man in the organization who wasn't either living a double life and on his way out, or too whipped as a mama's boy to ever get out on his own, let alone have a wife. I just wanted a normal future. To get married, to have kids maybe. I didn't want to be alone and I didn't want to imagine a future with any of the young men that I'd met so far in the organization. There had been so much marrying among the local congregations, what with the requirement of marrying 'only in the lord' that it was creepy to me. It started to feel like inbreeding somehow.
So here he was, from the other side of the state, a strange circuit, another world in many ways. And he seemed so...so...normal. So to me it seemed as if Jehovah Himself had heard my thoughts. That He was refuting my claim that there were no young men in the organization who hadn't had their emotions squashed out of them in the process of putting on the 'new personality'. I felt as He was saying to me, "here you go, little girl. Take a look at this!" Every time he passed by me, there was a spark in his eye. That wiggle of the brow, the wink when no one was looking. It made me feel as if the 'pretty girl' that others said that they saw in me, (but was impossible to see in my own mirror) was maybe in there after all. Just knowing that he was out there, and had even noticed me enough to favor me with a smile gave me hope. I saw Hero at other assemblies, other functions, and in the interim he always sent 'hello' messages to me through my sister Claire. He continued to symbolize for me all that I could dream of: charm, spirituality, goodness. The desire to help others. I put him so high up on a pedestal that I could only see his feet. But my God, how I worshiped those toes.
Time passed.
I spent less time on the east side and more around my home congregation. The following summer I worked extensively on the local Assembly Hall building project, and my romantic affections were turned to someone who seemed (at least) to be more accessible to me. That would ultimately end in heartbreak for me, but that is a story for another day.
Another year passed.
I had always kept tabs on Hero through friends, they way that many Witness teenagers do. I'll never forget the phone call. The phone rang one afternoon as I was preparing to go to work. Half dressed and almost ready to go, my mother called me to the phone. It was Claire. I had not heard her voice sound quite that way ever before. "I wanted to call you right away, so that you'd hear this from me and not anyone else. Are you sitting down?"
"No, why?"
"Sit."
"Claire,"
"Just do it."
I sat.
"All right..."
"Hero committed suicide."
It took a moment to register.
"No, that can't be."
"It's true, Lily. I wanted to be the one to tell you, I know that this was going to be...very hard for you." I realized then that my adoration of Hero from afar had not been as well hidden as I'd thought.
"How?"
"He shot himself."
"Why? Did he leave..." Suddenly, why became very important to me.
"He left a note but it didn't make much sense to anyone. The therapist told them not to try to make too much sense of it, he was very distraught, obviously."
"They should have been able to help him." I said, my shoulders slumping. But I didn't cry.
"He was in therapy, but he just...did it."
I think that I thanked her for telling me, I don't honestly remember much of the rest of the conversation. I just remember that I got dressed and left the house in a hurry, headed straight to work. I worked in an environment where a smile was mandatory, not optional. I interacted with families and small children and the smile was considered part of my uniform. Most days I had no trouble. Today, I went there because it was the only place on Earth I thought I could go and be safe in my own company. I was known at work as someone who was cheerful, because I always put on a happy face to hide my serious depression beneath. All my co-workers knew that I was a JW and I used to think, if I'm depressed how does that reflect on my faith? I didn't want to bring any reproach. So I pasted on that smile and never let it slip. I hurried into the back room at work, and as my favorite assistant manager passed by, he stopped. He looked me in the eye, and I looked away because I knew if he kept that gaze on me, I'd fall apart.
"What happened?" He asked.
"James..." I said, and I stopped.
"Just tell me honey."
"Someone...I was very fond of just committed suicide."
"Oh honey." he said, and he hugged me. "Do you need to go home? Do you want to leave?"
"No, James, I think I'd better stay here. I can't go home."
"You know, I've lost a lot of friends to suicide. Too many." James whispered to me. We had talked many times before about how hard it had been for him, coming out of the closet and being rejected by his family. Apparently some of his friends had not been able to survive that struggle.
"I'm sorry..."
"You were fond of this guy?"
"It was sort of like...worshiped from afar. I adored him, James." I said. I bit my lip so hard that it throbbed. I stopped just short of piercing the skin with my teeth.
"I'll bring you something tomorrow, okay? In the meantime you stay if you need to, but if you have to go, its okay."
"No. I think this is the best place for me to be right now."
He nodded and then moved away, letting me gather myself for the workday ahead.
I combed my hair, pasted on my best Good Little Witness Girl smile, and stood tall with my shoulders back. The show went on.
I didn't sleep much that night. I went mechanically through the motions and the next day, as promised, James handed me an envelope. "This was taken at the Vietnam Veterans memorial in Washington by a friend of mine. It helped me, I hope it helps you." He hugged me again and then walked off, leaving me alone in the stockroom to open it. It was a photograph of a section of the wall, a home made sign. I have long since, in the years since this happened, lost track of the photo, but I will never forget the words.
"To those who despaired and committed suicide:
We will sing your songs
We will dream your dreams,
We will finish your work."
As time went on, more details about Hero's suicide began to come to me through my sister. She went to his funeral. It was a heartbreaking affair, made even more so by the fact that at the time the Society's stand on suicides was that they would not, most likely get a resurrection. There were, according to Claire (who had spoken with Hero's family) several details that were not being told to the general public. That there was speculation that Hero had possibly been molested by a man who had also molested other boys in the congregation, and as a result had 'issues' with his orientation. At the same time, they were confused because he had been dating sisters and all. He had been in therapy, but the overwhelming message of his suicide note was that he wouldn't be acceptable to God, or make it into the New System. I also learned that it had taken him some time to die. He shot himself through the heart. I cannot be sure which of these factors were sorted out with time, or if any of them were put to rest. All I can do is imagine how horrible it must have been for Hero to be suffering so much alone. I wished that he had someone, anyone to turn to who he felt that he could trust. That he hadn't given up. How in the hell, I asked myself, can I ever survive living in this organization if someone who was as good and kind as Hero couldn't?
I doubt that any of us will ever really know what it was exactly that caused Hero to buckle. I do know that the man who molested in that congregation did go to jail, but he left a swath of destroyed young men, only boys at the time of his evil acts, behind him. No prison term will ever bring justice.
My illusions died along with my Hero, to this day I cannot believe that he isn't out there, somewhere. I only hope that he has found peace now, whether only in sleep and release from his pain or in whatever afterlife there may be.
I know that there is no such peace for those of us who loved him, and were left behind. I wrote this poem a short time after he died, and I end this tribute to him with the words I wish that I could have spoken to him.
"The walls may one day tumble down,
but the barriers will still remain.
Our castles sink and slowly drown,
and I am weary of this game
...and the world just goes on.
No one can give them what they need,
because no one can ever know
or understand the desperate lives they lead,
or see their hands slowly letting go,
...the world just goes on.
All the hoping and the wishing,
all the things you want to give,
all the ducking and the dodging
of the reasons you should live
...while the world just goes on.
Don't give in to the darkness,
and the noise that crowds your head
turn away from life's cold starkness,
and let me love you now instead
while the world just goes on.
Shimmer, sparkle, fade and die
the brilliant always fall so young
their laughter is lonely, and it lies
their breathing stops, we say goodbye
But the world always goes on.
After they are gone, what then?
What of those like me who can't forget?
Is it wrong of me to remember them,
because most can't understand them yet?
I won't forget...
...because the world will always go on."
For G.D.
Please, if you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, GET PROFESSIONAL HELP IMMEDIATELY. Each one of us is a precious piece of the Universe. Do not give in, keep fighting. I know from experience that life is worth fighting for.
~Lily Paige
The day of innocence
Of new thoughts
And joy
And peace
And light
Rip the page from my book
A blackness, a haze, a haunting of spirit
You look at me
And your eyes are now empty
Your soul is dark
And your form is cavernous, ashen, looming and daunting
I look into your face and search for some semblance of the person I know
And trust.
But that one is gone
or maybe I was mistaken: you were never there.
Time slips into the grey, to unrecognizable figures and sounds
Yet deep in me is a song, a drumbeat to which I must dance
A chance.
I lift my shamed face and open my eyes
and crawl free
Refusing one last, backward glance
Turn off the roar in my head
Shake off the chills in my skin
I now stand
And I feel the rain, warm and singing
Washing you from me
And in the reflection at my feet I see:
The joy
The peace
The light
And I don’t need you anymore
Now I hold small hands and see little faces that look like mine, before.
And they trust me, and are looking in my eyes.
Like the widow with coins of small worth,
I have learned to give from what I never received
To lift water from an empty well
And give it willingly and free.
But I would like you to know
You will not cage my soul;
And my spirit is not chained and wears it’s scars as badges of courage.
To you I owe nothing.
You are fading and I must be going
Life is sweeter, things to do, life to live, air to breath. Willow
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I try without being obscene, But still,
One needs the poetic art of speaking
horrific things, in gentle tone --
to tell her story.
Unblinking brown eyes tell much -- and reading them, you know. But still,
There is the smile below her stare
wistfully aloof
to remind you that, as an adult,
you know nothing of things such as she has been through.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
a poem to my sisters:
COMMON BONDS
Flowers fading... into the night
The winds... that blow away
The falling of an oak... with all of it's might
Dose nothing... really stay?
The beautiful birth... of a child that's fare
The seed of life... in a child
The dream of a child... so precious and rare
Then life disappears... in a while
Agony... resulting in hurt
A merry go round... and round
Dose something make it... all a-worth?
A reason that makes it... all sound?
We all are a game... to the devious rat
Who uses us... just for play
Then crumples us up... like a used party hat
And tosses us... simply away
There's a hope deep within... that death can not touch
The pain only last... for a while
But the hope held within... can heal all the pain
And leave our hearts... with a smile
The hope held within... is more than just hope
We know that there's more... than we see
It isn't a dream... a wish... or a hope
Your heart really knows... what will be
You can not deny... God's deep love
He doesn't love... only a few
He feels for us all... he worries for each
He cares for... the sinner too
He opens his heart... to the wander
He opens his arms... to the sad
He's there for the grieving... and those without hope
And he's love us... despite... when we're bad
He doesn't stop loving... because were not good
He doesn't give up... on the lost
He isn't demanding... despite our mistakes
His Son paid... our sin's cost
He patiently waits ... for eyes will see
And ears... that wish to hear
He never will force us... to do what he wants
He shows us true love... without fear
He doesn't scold... when we are wrong
He loves us... back to his arms
He doesn't want... for us to be forced
He dose not... threaten with harm
He's patient and kind... He's loving and good
He's everything... we should be
He's honest and open... He's gentle and calm
He's wants his children... Free
Free from force... Free from fear
Free from anger... and woe
Free from hatred... Free from greed
Free from the sins... we all know
He never... will force us... to love him
Our prayers... he dose not shun
He does... not... ignore us
Or say... we're not worthy... of his Son
He doesn't... stop loving us... ever
He treats all his children... the same
He dose not... show a preference
He doesn't punish... with shame.
He loves... all of us... with great wisdom
As a father... loves... his child
He never... will falter... in this love
He is constantly... patient... and mild
So do not forget... that he loves you
And do not pretend... he's not there
Always remember... he knows our hearts
And faithfully... always will care
Remember... the faith... in our minds
Don't let... the odds... tear you down
Remember... the hope... for all human kind
Keep your dreams... in your heart... And your feet... on the ground...
Tamar 1999
-----------------------------
SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN
MARK 10:14 KJV
"The mothers are asking for blessings, their children stand around.
But you have long been toiling and the sun is almost down.
After all they are only infants, to small your words to hear,
so we told them not to bother you, you would not want them near."
But the Master looked about him and saw the infant throng
and commanded that they come to him, they had waited far to long.
Each child received a blessing, each child a gentle touch.
Yes, suffer the little children to come in the evening hush.
Happy the babe in blessing received his gentle hand
and happy the head that felt his lips and heard that soft command.
In the sunset there they met him, on Judah 's hills so green
and the last long rays of a ruby sun illumined the holy scene.
Yes,...suffer little children, in His arms you knew no ill.
For the Lord of Life will soon to die, for you, on Calvary 's Hill.
But children also suffer in arms that speak of pain
and infant dreams are ground to dust and always will remain.
They cause young lives to stumble, they break the trust of youth.
In darkness do they weave their plots and poison the well of truth.
Then suffer little children, and keep your secret pain
deep in depths of a broken heart, where it must still remain.
If you cause these ones to stumble, then better it must be
that you take on your neck the millstones weight, and sink in the depths of the sea.
But where will you find your justice? You babes who suffer wrong?
When the "rabbis" wise just close their eyes....and you just don't belong.
When they hide your true confessions, to keep their Watchtower clean.
When they shield the men who do the wrongs and say it has not been.
When silence is their answer to wronged babes silent cry.
And legalism chokes the heart and causes truth to die.
Though human courts may fail you and whitewash coat the wall.
A higher court and Perfect Judge will bring them to His call.
Then every child who suffered for justice will not wait
not only for the guilty ones, but those who sit in state.
Each hidden crime will be revealed, each justice that delayed,
each man who covers up the truth will one day be dismayed.
Each secret twisted council will stand exposed to light,
and those who lied and shaped the lie will vanish....into night.