Part 2
Sharing the Burden
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Sharing the Memories of

Child Sexual Abuse



"He read my poem - I could not yet say the words. I sat there completely tense and shaking and closed my eyes. I could not deal with the words, but I had written them. He told me I would have to share and share over and over, and eventually I would be able to tell the stories without spacing out, that I would eventually learn how to ground myself. I have always known these acts happened. The picture memories, or parts of them, had been carefully stored away by me, but never before did I feel the emotions that went with what happened."

The figure in the middle of the room was my own "pink elephant in the middle of the living room" - it was always there but I could not own it. It seems safely contained in the picture above. That was not true in my original drawing of this figure. Could it be that when I transferred it to this picture, I instinctively enclosed it in strong boundaries?

A Pedophile

Fleshy, hairy, white and soft,
Flaccid penis, gray, wrinkled balls,
Round belly bulging under
Coarse, curly haired chest.
White thighs large as hams,
Black hair growing from his ass.
A body with no feet or face,
Hands large and strong
That touched and touched,
Arms that could hold and imprison.
All such a vivid memory
except for top and bottom,
The disgusting talking head
is dark, messy, greasy, large
with soft, wet, slimy lips.
The face did not exist,
and the feet did no harm.


Neglected, Sexually Abused Child

Such a child is sad and alone,
There is no one to run to,
No one to hold or help me,
No one to love me.

My clothes are unmatched and shabby,
My hair I cut myself.
I am too shy to make friends,
I hide in books and my imagination.

I hate my developing body,
The target of abusive men,
I learn early to deny it,
To cloak it in imagined obesity.

I worry about my future.
I don't know that I am neglected.
I only know that I am different,
I am separate from all my peers.

So as not emulate my abusers,
I write my own rules to live by,
Based on my reactions to the abuse,
And the hurt I learned to endure.

"Don't hurt other people with words or acts,
Don't judge others by color or creed,
Don't condemn without the facts,
Don't for a minute presume to know another."

Idealistic notions are easy to formulate,
To practice them can be hard.
For me the notions feel right,
So fulfilling them is easy.

Good acts, like appropriate touching and loving,
Remain incomprehensible to me.
I still struggle to feel comfortable with them,
Whether I am the one to give or to receive.


Sharing the Burden
Sharing My Shadowland
Sharing the Memories of Child Sexual Abuse
Sharing the Terror - The Abusers
Sharing the Whirling Memories
Sharing Fear
The Children Find a Safe Corner
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