Monday, June 26, 2006

Marking the Boundaries

Here is the mark
We will not cross
We will not falter
I will feel at a loss

It is a line
That is drawn in the sand
Forever vigilant
Forever manned

A line that is written
Marked there still
For many years
The tide does spill

A beach sand mark
Not to be weathered away
By sand, by tide
By night or by day

It has been crossed
By others before
But today I say
No forever more.


A poem about marking your boundaries

Survivors often have problems with boundaries, and I wanted to write a poem about this aspect of healing.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

My bucket

A bucket worth of feelings
Lies on the tiled floor
And in this bucket I place
My fears, my anxieties and more

The bucket is my salvation
I look at it when I can
I see it standing there beside me
It is my greatest fan

And what would happen if one day
The bucket were to rust
Then how could I know
With whom my feelings I could trust

And if the bucket had a hole
Would it leak; would it overflow?
In this I do not understand
In this I do not know

And what if the bucket
Were to be seen by someone new
Would they know what I was feeling
Would they know what I could do?

And so if you see my bucket
You will understand
That it is me that you're talking to
It is me that can be that grand

Saturday, June 17, 2006

My Path

I see a path
In front of me
I place a rock
I look and see

The path does change
A little bit
The path does wander
I must admit

Another rock
I place there still
By the edge
I think; take my fill

I see two rocks
I place them down
Am I happy
Or will I frown

I stop;
The rocks are wrong
The path is broken
Breath not strong

I continue on
Placing more rocks still
I fill the path
Rocks make my will

The path overflows
I can do no more
Many rocks fill the path
I know not their score

The rocks weigh me down
I take some away
I wander back
The path does sway

I am right now
My rocks are there
I can see them
I know they care

So what do I do
Now the rocks are mine
You place rock
And say it will be fine

I see a path
In front of me
I place a rock
I look and see

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Bedroom Door

A feeling of terror
Knocks upon the door
I hear its sound
It comes after me; some more

I look up
The door is open
The image there
It is unspoken

It is dark
The door is wide
I see him there
In his stride

Is it real
Is he there
It seems to me
I just can't care

He stands there
He does not enter
An apparition
Scaring at my centre

It makes me scream
Is it a ghost?
Is it real?
Thoughts scare the most

I do not know
What to think
What if its real?
The horror; I blink

I am left now
With this thought
Just what is this
In this I'm caught

Nightmares can sometimes seem so real. I am unsure if this image is true or not.


Saturday, June 10, 2006


I am visiting areas in my past that are of concern to me. I have posted the first on the Survivor Art Gallery and called it "Tree"

I am currently reading "Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence - from Domestic Abuse to Political Terror " by Judith Lewis Herman, M.D.