Poems from the Past: Dark Threads

The comment was made by one challenge member that we should not be ashamed of our story because it may help someone else. These are some of the darker threads of my story.

Can you hear me?
May, 1994

Do you hear my cry
In the silence?
Do you weep for the hollow in my heart?
Do you feel
The crumbling walls
Meant to protect
Yet binding me
To the one
Who most believes
Me unlikeable?


Crumbling stone

The chasm grows
life and you
and me
the stone shatters around
our perches
u s
pedestals of
stone. We talk
but words
lifeless into the
c an y on

The wind blooows
soft kiss of life
my skin
I look
seeing patterns
of beauty
in transitory stone.
The earth shifts
and moves
I can see beauty
yet cannot touch

touches me
cool breeze
burning flesh
with hope.

Does it touch you?
are you
your concerns
wind as enemy
trying to rouse you
your protected


To the Woman who wanted to Share a Coffee Break
12 February, 1997

To believe you are unlikeable
is to be unlikeable,
Prophecy fulfilled
Tarnished by self doubt,
I cry no more
from aching hollow,
no longer longing
to be filled. It is
a lie
guarding my heart
My mind protects—
Harsh truth
seems real.
I run
I do not burden
with my closeness.
Fearing rejection
I reject
your outstretched hand.
Protecting me
I shatter your dreams
into dust.


The Panther
11 July, 2000

Within the confine of this cage
He paces
tensed muscles ripple straining
against the limits of this existence
He turns toward the night
His face molded
in a snarl of rage he cries his anger
to the silent voices hidden
behind the bright glare illuminating
cage and creature of the night
a shadow lost
to the world he knows
the night
the haunting rustle of leaves
brushing against silky fur
as on padded paw He slinks supplely by
by night and forest home
free to prowl
to make His way within His world
of darkness


17 October 2000

they pelt me with insistency
bruising skin made soft
through months of being held
protectively within a dream
i seek shelter
for moments of eternity
within the gentle home
in the heart of another
under the shelter of
a poem or thought
a mantra to recite
within my head
but I must journey on
there is a place that i must go
a quest that i must keep
and so i dash once more
into the cold hard pellets
raining on my head
or find myself
without a shelter
curled protectively
in the shadow of a blue green stone
hoping for some of memory’s protection
to find within its caverns
some thread of thought
to weave a tent of truths
to carry with me on my road
but with each thread i touch
i only find a trail of smoke
within my hand
words i do not know for truths
or fantasy of fancy’s flight
without a reason
without a substance
without the strength
to protect me in these frequent
journeys through hail.


O what a web we weave
20 October, 2000

It is the truths that hold me
stretched in quiet grays
among the gossamer rainbow threads
of story
The word and touch of thought
revealing a heart
afraid of letting life too close
so running from it
into gaiety
into laughter’s fancy
into dreams of once upon a time
somewhere where happiness
once reigned
They whisper “Come,
there is a home for you”
And so I follow
their magical flute
seeking home
seeking safety
seeking welcome
even as the threads
wrap tighter around me
holding me bound
until your ego once again
needs to be fed


November 17, 2001

The demons scream within my head
In dream images
Ledgers disguised in human form
They scream unworthiness
Each thing I ever asked a monument
Although only a crumb
Each thing I do
A murder trail
Tried on circumstantial evidence
That finds me guilty

My voice cried out to stop them
To make them see how small the cost
To make them see the crime
Is not as they accuse
But they don’t listen
And their voices have power
To curl me to the floor
A fetal child circled in self
Reaching for the strength
She cannot find

I am undone
And she who watches gives no aid
I do not know why she is there
Is she the judge? The executioner?
The silent witness giving credence
To their cries?
Don’t leave me here alone!
Could you, is there any chance
You just might be here for me?

I wake into the silence
Of an empty room
Frantic for someone to hold
Some voice to still the screaming in my brain
There is no answer from the silent walls
I am alone within this prison
Of my skin
Condemned to silence by the echoes
Of a life once dead



june 28, 2003

carving words upon this page

line by empty line

i stem the tide of blood

Flooding from the slashes in my spirit

trying to silence the pain

of my crying soul

i scrawl red rivers of rage

in black on white

stilted anger screamed to dry

the tears flowing down my face you

will not know these cries

for you will not read these words

i place them in a frame you will not view

knowing you will not see or know

but I was never one to try for sympathy

these wounds are for myself alone

bleeding crimson words in black

all the things you would not let me say

can now be said

into the silence you won’t read

the deed is done and so I walk again

alone slashing this page to gain

the chemical haze of numbness

when words have found the gate to their release

until my spirit is left cleansed to begin

once more to build the life

i thought i had begun to find with you

time will start the clock ticking hours

scheduling tomorrows until again

I find within me readiness to face todays

My life moves on in

Slow rythmn of scars in regimental file

bleeding in invisibility that knows to hide

From a world not ready for the naked truth

of pain on pain that will not be denied

if I am to find new existence on its shores


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