17 September 2010

Poems from a BACA child

So, last weekend my chapter adopted a rather remarkable young lady. Orangie Girl is certainly a survivor, moving past her abuse to a better life.

One thing she has been doing to aid that is writing poems as therapy. She mentioned that she wishes they could get spread far-and-wide, so others can read them. I suggested a couple websites, then thought "idiot: you have a blog".

I'll put them up here a couple at a time. And a couple of them are going under a fold: they can get a little brutal...


These first two are her favorites. Feel free to comment on them: I'll forward appropriate comments to her.

Cries of the Little Girl
Who will hear the cry of the little girl
The girl that just wanted a dad
A best friend
Some one to talk to
Some one to hang out with
And most important
Some one to protect her
Who will her the cry of the little girl
When she walks the burning sand
Crying to herself
Not knowing how to escape
Living with endless pain
Believing she is alone
Lost in the world
Who will hear the cry of a little girl
Forgotten by the ones she loves
Hiding so no one sees her suffer
Sitting in her room trying to end it all
Planning her way out
To leave the monster in her heart
So she can be at peace with herself
Who will hear the cry of a little girl

My Meadow
In the depths of the forest
I’m caught wondering around
Trying to find a place for a break
To finally have what peace I need
I look toward a glissen’ of light
And start running to the opening
But something keeps pulling me back
It’s you
The one I looked up to
How could you trip me and make me fall
You are the root of the trees
Sticking out in my way
Not allowing me to finally be at ease
Every turn I make
There you are making me trip and fall
Can there be no path for me
You say you are there to protect me
Standing there tall and strong
With your unbreakable bark
And your beautiful appearance
But that is only your cover
For on the inside you are rotting away
A tree dying from the inside out
So you pull me down to feel stronger
But now as I look around
You are not a forest of trees surrounding me
But you are a lonely tree
Standing by yourself
Cold and alone
You can no longer keep me down
For I have seen my meadow
I have over come the obstacles of your roots
I may have fallen
And I may fall again
But I will get up
For I have seen my meadow
And you can no longer keep me from it

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