View Full Version : Poetry to Heal the Spiritual Heart


Bluerose
07-15-13, 10:23 AM
We have all had the experience of the comfort of soothing words. Finding the words to articulate a traumatic experience can bring relief.

Share Healing, spiritually uplifting, poetry here.


Broken Children

For Children Who Were Broken
it is very hard to mend......

Our pain was rarely spoken
and we hid the truth from friends.

Our parents said they loved us,
but they didn't act that way.
They broke our hearts
and stole our worth,
with the things that they would say.

We wanted them to love us.
We didn't know what we did
to make them yell at us
and hit us,
and wish we weren't their kid.

They'd beat us up and scream at us
and blame us for their lives.
Then they'd hold us close inside their arms
and tell us confusing lies
of how they really loved us --
even though we were BAD,
and how it was OUR fault they hit us,
OUR fault that they were mad.

When days were just beginning
we sometimes prayed for them to end,
and when the pain kept coming,
we learned to just pretend
that we were good
and so were they
and this was just
on of those days ...
tomorrow we'd be friends.

We had to believe it so.
We had nowhere else to go.

Each day that we pretended,
we replaced reality
with lies, or dreams,
or angry schemes,
in search of dignity ....
until our lies
got bigger than the truth,
and we had no one real to be

Our bodies were forsaken.
With no safe place to hide,
we learned to stop
hearing and feeling what they did to our outsides.

We tried to make them love us,
till we hated ourselves instead,
and couldn't see a way out,
and wished that they were dead.
We scared ourselves by thinking that,
and scared ourselves to know,
that we were acting just like them --
and might ever more be so.

To be half the size of a grown-up
and trapped inside their pain....
To every day lose everything
with no saviour or refrain...
To wonder how it is possible
that God could so forget
the worthy child you knew you were,
when you had not been damaged yet ...
To figure on your fingers
that the years till you'd be grown
enough to leave the torment
and survive away from home,
were more than you could count to,
or more than you could bear,
was the reality we lived in
and we knew it wasn't fair.

We who grew up broken
are somewhat out of time,
struggling to mend our childhood,
when our peers are in their prime.
Where others find love
and contentment,
we still often have to strive
to remember we are worthy,
and heroes just to be alive.

Some of us are healing.
some are stealing.
Most are passing the anger on.
Some give their lives away to drugs,
or the promise of like beyond.
Some still hide from society.
Some struggle to belong.
But all of us are wishing
the past would not hold on
so long.

There's a lot of digging down to do
to find the child within,
to love away the ugly pain
and feel innocence again.
There is forgiveness
worthy of angel's wings
for remembering those at all,
who abused our sacred childhood
and programmed us to fall.
To seek to understand them,
and how their pain became our own,
is to risk the ground we stand on
to climb the mountain home.

The journey is not so lonely
as in the past it has been ...
More of us are strong enough
to let the growth begin.
But while we're trekking
up the mountain
we need everything we've got,
to face the adults we have become,
and all that we are not.

So when you see us weary
from the day's internal climb ...
When we find fault
with your best efforts,
or treat imperfection
as purposeful crime ...
When you see our quick defences,
our efforts to control,
our readiness to form a plan
of unrealistic goals ...
When we run into a conflict
and fight to the bitter end,
remember ...
We think that winning means
we won't be hurt again.

When we abandon OUR thoughts
and feelings,
to be what we believe YOU
want us to,
or look at trouble we re having,
and want to blame it all on you...
When life calls for new beginnings,
and we fear they're doomed to end,
remember...
Wounded trust is like a wounded knee--
It is very hard to bend.

Please remember this
when we are out of sorts.
Tell us the truth, and be our friend.
For children who were broken...
it is very hard to mend.


Author Unknown

Bluerose
07-15-13, 10:34 AM
I Can't

I can't. I just can't. I can't do it all.
I can't be all things to all people
At all times and under all circumstances.
I can't be the one to always change my plans to suit another's.
I can't be the one to pick up after others all the time.
I can't work all day and stop at the grocery and cook dinner
And have it ready by 6:30.
I can't carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I need some support, too, and a rest.
I can't; can't, can't cantaloupe, can't canticle, can't cantilever,
Cantina, cantata, cantankerous, cannon,
Canapé, canard, candelabra, can… can…,
Can I? Can I just do it? Can I do it all?
Can I ration my time to allow for my priorities?
Can I ask others to share the burdens?
Can I refuse this role of superwoman?
Can I just ‘say no?’
I can. I can just say no. I can just say,
“I'm out of the business of doing it all.”
I can take time for myself to breathe
And dream or just sit quietly.
And I will!


“I Can't” by Carlene Shaff

Blanched Dubois
07-15-13, 10:59 AM
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings ( from my husband on our wedding day )

Bluerose
07-15-13, 11:06 AM
Sweet Silence

The
Answer
To your answers
Certainly questions not
For the answer from the wisdom
Of loves sweet silence
Says a lot

Poems by: silent lotus


The Hush

The
Nature of being
Leaves out
Nothing
At all

And
As i
Sit here
In silence

The
Beauty
And strength
Of the hush

Is
Like the
Powerful
Rush

Of
The
Greatest
Waterfall


Poems by: silent lotus

Bluerose
07-15-13, 11:18 AM
http://i351.photobucket.com/albums/q462/fairladyblue/3e4r_zps14f6fd3d.jpg

erratic
07-15-13, 11:35 PM
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I have ADHD
And so do you