Survivors Poetry

The lights are low and everybody’s out,
Dust has fallen and you say we are alone,
"Just you and me now, alone at last".
You lead me upstairs and say
"lets go to mummy and Daddy's bed"

So little and naïve, why god had produced an angle in me,
Yet so big and wise, god had produced the devil in you.
Your halo has fallen, dropped to beneath,
I feel you tugging on mine but I wont let you pull mine down with you.

The angle God had produced was white and pure, shine and bright.
The devil in you has turned it red with rage and anger with age
Even thou the years have past, I still feel the heat of the red all over me.
The pain you have caused will never go, it will fade gradually but never leave.
Why the colour is now in a box, but the lid will never quite close.

If you could see me now, still a little child cries in the corner,
This little girl is joined by her only family that she has created.
Because this has not only affect her, It has now affected her own family,
They feel her pain and sorrow but at least they feel love the way love is supposed to feel.

Why this new family feel love as a warm and positive feeling and not to feel a shamed off
Why this is not dread, hate or tainted, not special love like you told me,
Why that was not proper love, how could it be!!

Giving birth should be a happy special memorable time in your life,
And yet this was shadowed with darkness, shame, guilt, feeling dirty and untrusting towards someone I know I can trust,
The dread and the panic is setting in, paralysing my every thought

I look at her tiny feet and hands, was I this old when you gave me your special love!
She lays her in her cot, tears rolling down my face,
why I had not felt like this in a very long time and especial not with my first.
I can’t breath, Help, I can’t breath,
For this is my baby so tiny and small and only a few days old,
surly I could not have been that small?

What you do not see is not just the childhood you stole from me but also my children’s
For they are now enclosed with the fear and panic their mummy feels,
Not being able to play outside or stay over at friends houses, or talk to people in the street, for this is not a childhood this is a prison,
A prison cell of panic and fear that their mummy tries to hide and shy away them from.

Oh why god did you let it happen to me!!!!

Poem by Anne