Cometh the Shower, Cometh the Man

Tags

abuse, bag lady, Bill, fate, homeless person, journey, loss of identity, metaphor, Parliament, pillow, power, shower, tiger, tramp

Cometh the Shower, Cometh the Man – the plight of the homeless

Four walls, three windows, two doorsteps front and back, one roof. Zero! Countdown to loss and a loss so profound it has no bounds. Too difficult to contemplate the rate at which this loss creates the fate of anyone of us. Because we are not immune, to any of the fates that wait unseen ready to pounce without fore-warning. Crouching like a tiger, amongst the foliage of life, breathing soft, aloft the cares, concerns and worries of it’s prey, it leaps and you become the very thing you toiled and sweated to avoid: the homeless person, the bag lady, the tramp.

When you lose your home, to a great extent, you lose yourself. Your identity forged on the furnace of the place from which you come. You lose yourself. You lose your rights. You lose your body, becoming visibly invisible for others see you but choose not to acknowledge you, because you don’t have an address. An address, sought after, a number placed upon a door, a number which identifies you and shouts: this is where you can find me on any given day at any given hour, for this is where I live.

Paula* talking on the radio, loud and clear for all to hear. No longer a statistic but a person with a place to call her own. When she opened her front door, I can’t tell you how her spirit soared. Soared to heights it’s hard to describe. She speaks of stepping in the shower in which she spent over an hour, no water saving there! An hour in the shower, is a luxury for a woman who lost the power to shower for longer than she cares to say. Sleeping on a pillow became the stuff of dreams. She slept for as long as she wanted, her head resting on a pillow. The joy, the pleasure to sleep at leisure when one has slept on a cold pavement with fresh air for a pillow and fresh air for a blanket cannot be denied.

To clear the streets and house the homeless they talked of Bills and Parliament. Talk of cross-party support was vital: to get the Bill through Parliament. This becomes a burning issue. Reasons for homelessness are mooted. Domestic violence cited and indicted. Domestic violence stands accused, for who would choose to lose their home? Who would choose to lose their identity? Who would prefer to walk the streets, alone, afraid, if Domestic violence at first charming, so disarming, becoming outraged, impossible to assuage had not moved in and changed the locks on their front door?

~ MEW

*Dedicated to “Paula” who spoke of her plight of homelessness and the part domestic violence played on BBC Radio 4, in London. Enjoy your shower, Paula!

 

Sex, Ties and Which Road Do I Take?

Tags

abuse, awareness, bread, commodity, connection, emotion, healing, hurt, journey, love, morality, Oscar Wilde quote, retail, sex, shock, therapy

Warning: this contains controversial subject matter.

“Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.”
― Oscar Wilde

What is it about sex? Why does it catch everyone’s attention in a way that other subjects do not? Let’s face it if you open a newspaper and there is some scandalous snippet about a well-known politician, do your eyes not immediately wander over to what you might perceive to be something juicy, something to gossip about on the telephone, by the water cooler: “Who would have thought it? Yes, and he’s married with three children!” Sex elicits shock, surprise, disbelief, smugness. It questions morality. It excites. It turns you off. It turns you on. It can bring on a headache. Some can take it, others prefer to leave it. Some will only do it if you put a ring on it. Or so Beyoncé would have us believe.

So what is this three letter word all about? Why is it so pivotal? Is it because we cannot exist without it? We can’t exist without the air we breathe, but does talk of “air”, (incidentally another three letter word) impact the human race in quite the same way as sex does? An article on air and an article on sex? Which do you read first? Air or sex? Sin -an old-fashioned word with religious connotations. Sin too is pivotal to the human condition. Who doesn’t sin each day, intentionally or not. Sin excites, shocks and questions morality, but not in the same way as sex does.

We cannot live without sex. It is central to our lives. And if this is the case, why is it not revered? The association with dirt cannot be denied. When I was growing up, my mother could not say the word “sex”. So I was introduced to menstruation, by being given a little pamphlet about it with the warning: “Don’t fool around boys”. That was the extent of my sex education from the woman who gave birth to me. You would have thought that I would have been given more detailed information from someone who had been there, done it, got the “T” shirt – right? So the shy, confused eleven year-old, was left to negotiate her own sexual journey armed with a pamphlet and an ambiguous statement. What exactly did “don’t fool around boys mean”? Don’t appear to be an idiot in the presence of boys? What would a boy consider to be foolish behaviour?

Sex, sadly is also a commodity. This some would say, beautiful expression of connection between two people can be bought, sold, bartered, negotiated, and disposed of. Sex has been reduced to a retail concern, with economic connotations. Just as you can “pop” to Tesco for your bread, milk and potatoes, you can pop out to buy sex too. Both sustain you. But when was the last time you got excited about spending a night in with your loaf of bread? Isn’t sex more satisfying? Especially with a loved one with whom you’ve forged emotional ties.

So what is sex? A beautiful expression of connection or a physical urge which needs to be satisfied? It would appear to be both. A sexual paradox?

And then, there’s abuse. Using sex to ruin a child’s life. Wrong! Forcing yourself on an individual who does not want to be part of your desire to satisfy your own physical urge. Wrong! How can it be acceptable to be irresponsible about sexual gratification if it involves stealing a child’s right to explore their own sexuality in their own time, at their own pace, when they want to? Yet this is what child molesters, paedophiles, and those inclined to this criminal behaviour would want to impose on those of us who find this reprehensible. This is not sex. This is depravity. Make no bones about that. Once you have stolen someone’s innocence, you might as well have killed them. Yes, I know this is unpalatable for many. But it is the reality. I have to shock you. Because I have no other way of stressing the hurt, the pain, the distress, the emotional turmoil, the mental turmoil, the taking of a valuable life. Who knows what that child, young person would have achieved had they not found it necessary to heal that trauma in later life? Hiding away from the world, instead of boldly shining their light.

So I’ve dealt with “sex” and I’ve touched on “ties”. Now you’re wondering what I’m going to say about “which road to take”. It was in fact a play on the words “Sex, Lies and Videotape”, that well known film starring Andie Mcdowell and James Spader. I have nothing more to say than I hope you appreciate my pun.

~ MEW

Florence

Tags

abuse, broken, control, cruelty, domestic vioence, escape, fears, Florence, husband, Italy, pain, physical scars, tears, therapy, wedding vows

Florence not the place in Italy. A real person, an essentially good person but flawed nonetheless. I cannot say what prompted me to write today of Florence although I had been thinking about her for a while and I wanted to share with all the beauty of a soul who suffered more than words can say, and who dwelt each day in turmoil. You see Florence was a victim of domestic violence. And Florence came to believe that that was all she deserved. She did not know how, could not know how, was unable to show the scars, the tears, her fears, instead wearing these garments like a beautiful gown thrown carefully about her person. She paid attention to this outward show: the fashion show of the broken.

Others looked but could not see her pain for she wore those garments well. Tears like a brooch pinned to her heart, covering the sorrow. Fears, a multi-coloured scarf tossed about her neck so those finger-marks a cruel necklace, red and raw were concealed a good deal of the time, even when it was not cold. Florence’s smile beguiled even those of a perspicacious nature. Even they were fooled by that smile, a smile which said all is well, but belied the sadness coiled tightly, so unsightly for the world to see.

Misfortune was the realm in which she lived, a place which foiled her every plan to escape the brutality of domestic violence. Attacks were the nature of the cruel game played out in this particular domain. Florence played the game but the rules were skewed. Skewed in favour of her husband. Her husband who she had taken for better or for worse, but it would have been better had the worse been better, but the worse was worse and featured strongly in this union if you could call it that.

Personally, I would not call it a union, but for Florence her wedding vows were sacred and she had promised and promises were not made to be broken. But her bones could be. Surely she had not promised that?

~ MEW

Taboo or not Taboo

Tags

abuse, collusion, communication, conscience, falsehood, healing, injustice, poem, poetry, silence, taboo, taboo subject, therapy

“It is true that when we harm others, we harm ourselves; but it is just as true that when we help others, we also help ourselves.”
― Desmond Tutu, The Book of Forgiving: The Fourfold Path for Healing Ourselves and Our World    

Taboo or not taboo, that is the question

Whether it is nobler in the mind*

To sit and do nothing

Or to stand up for what you know to be right

To listen and not be moved to action

To watch and to turn a blind eye

Does conscience or the lack of it make fools of us all?

In colluding with a wrongful action by keeping silent

In denying truth dishonestly and claiming falsehood true

What destructive forces do we unleash?

And can we ever rein them back before it is too late?

When we look but do not see

When we turn away in disgust relentless to the end

Because we cannot, dare not comprehend

What misery are we storing up for our brothers and our sisters

And ultimately ourselves?

~mew

 

 

[*Inspired by Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”]

 

Father

Tags

90th Birthday, abuse, anger, child abuse, communication, compassion, forgiveness, healing, heart, hurt, prose poetry, sadness, self-knowledge, therapy

Father

I know so little about you. I do regret that and I wonder if it is possible to go back while there is still time. But is there still time? And if there is, what would I ask you and would you answer me truthfully, or would you continue to evade my curious, questionning heart,confuse, abuse, lose me in that maze, that maze that you constructed, stiff, stifling, solid walls around you, saying “keep out!”.

Who mothered you? Who fathered you? Who were your friends? Who struck you? Where did your rage come from? At whose hands did you learn to fight, bite, keep tight, never lose sight of the anger, hold it, nurture it, feed it, plead with it to keep you safe, safe from the hurt and the pain which surely must have followed you doggedly in your formative years?

My tears, my fears, the passing years, heaped in a pile in a bundle in the centre of my heart. I keep meaning to have a clear out, but I don’t have the strength to tackle that bundle, so I trundle along in the hope that one day soon, I’ll march in, take hold, unfold all those offending garments, toss them into a place where I can see them for what they are: questions, questions with no answers. No answers.

I have known you for years untold and yet I do not know you. You have been in my heart, never too far apart, lingering languidly upon my lips, in my thoughts, in my prayers and layer after layer of you is impressed upon my being. I need to forgive myself for not getting to know you. I need to forgive you for not letting me get to know you.

~ mew

Violence Is Never The Answer

Tags

abuse, awareness, blogging, child abuse, compassion, cruelty, damaged, heart, prose, reblogged, spanking, violence

Stephen D Jennings post “Violence is Never the Answer” has prompted me to reiterate and reinforce my view. My best Christmas present of all would be to know that everyone would subscribe to this. This and my last post are really depressing, I know, especially as this is a time when we’re filled with anticipation for good times over the festive season. But I hope everyone will see that my heart is in the right place. We need to keep sending this message until it is finally heard.

Saying “Sorry” Isn’t Enough

Tags

abuse, awareness, blogging, child abuse, communication, compassion, control, cruelty, forgiveness, peace, season of good will

Stephen D Jennings post on “Saying Sorry is not Enough”

I have reblogged this post because it resonates with my “about” page. I am passionate about spreading the word that violence can never be the answer. It is the season of goodwill, and perhaps at this time more than any other time, we need to know that there many people who will not have a good time because they have a violent partner, parent etc. Rage and violence flares up (ironically) at this “peaceful” time. Sitting here on my pc is not going to solve the issue, but perhaps blogging about it will bring this to our awareness and if one violent person seeks help, I would feel my message is getting through. Forget about the present buying, the consumption of alcohol, the merrymaking for a moment and focus instead on the best gift of all – peace in our homes and our lives. Peace to all at this time and Season’s Greetings.

Letting Go

Tags

abuse, compassion, forgiveness, hurt, letting go, moving on, pain, prison, release

Why is it so hard to let go of past hurts?  Do you know, I’ve struggled with this and try as I may, I cannot come up with the answer.  But I have tried hard to do this – saying “I forgive you”, and at the point of saying it, there is a feeling of release.  But oh how easy it is to slip back into unforgiveness!  It’s as if I am in a wrestling match, trying to overcome my opponent.  I think I have him pinned down, but then he frees himself from my hold and grips me in another hold, where I struggle to free myself from that hold in my quest to become the victor.  My conclusion is that it’s not possible to completely let go, it’s an on-going process and if you can get to a place in your heart where you feel the grip is loosening, then you will feel better.  Perhaps for some of us it is more healing to say that “I am forgiving”, rather than “I forgive” realising that it is a process and a journey (for want of a better word) and that by looking forward to that place of forgiveness, each step taken, takes you closer to your goal.  I found that trying to release my pain through this poem was a step on my way to forgiveness and letting go.  I’m guessing we all have a poem to write …

Forgiving You, For Giving Me Hell

In this beautiful place

On this beautiful balcony

Overlooking the beautiful sea

I see

My father in a different light

I begin to view his plight

 

This morning it’s not about me

This morning it’s got to be

A gradual awareness of how blessed

He is, that God has made me see

How broken and wounded this man has been.

So now I reach out

 

And without a doubt

Release him, I free him

From the prison of my heart

I say: “get off your bed, you’re free to go”

I open wide the prison door

And stand aside

 

That he might slide past me

And fly outside

That he might soar

With wings of love

Into the sky above

So long I’ve held him prisoner

 

Watched him through the window of my soul

Refused to give him parole

Screamed that he in prison would die

But now I see that he must fly

His tormented soul begs my forgiveness

And so I release him

 

I can no longer his judge and jailer be

I’d like to say, with one fell swoop I set him free

But that would be a lie

My qualifications for this job did not come easily

The tears I shed, my wounds they bled

I flirted painfully with death

 

So you see, I earned this position

‘Twas not given me

I could not relinquish without a fight

A lifetime of immeasurable hurt

But now I choose to set him free

Go on, go quickly: I will not change my mind about this clemency

 

You don’t deserve it

You misfit

You don’t deserve it

You’re so unfit

But because I choose to let you go

To lose my sorrow and my woe

 

You’re a free man

Free to leave your prison cell

Free now to dwell

Wherever you wish.

Copyright Marie Williams July 2009

No Conscience

Tags

abuse, closure, communication, poetry, therapy

Do you ever feel let down and confused about the behaviour of someone who has hurt you?  Do you ever struggle to piece together the reasons why you have been hurt?  I have come to the conclusion that there are some people who simply do not have a conscience.  They have no idea of the effect their behaviour has on their victim(s) and they do not care.  This is hard to understand for those of us who do care.  Should we feel pity for those people who do not have a conscience?

No Conscience

How do I speak to you

When you have no conscience?

It is impossible for you to hear me

You might hear the words

But I may as well be silent

Go quietly into the night

You feel no guilt

No sadness threatens to ruffle your peace

But alas I feel the guilt

And longing for love lost

Those two stand strong

Resting heavily on my mind

But your mind is free

You cannot see

What you have done to me

Can you?

Because you have no conscience

And hence, I am tense with fear

Why can’t you hear?

If you could hear

And if my words touched your soul

Wouldn’t that make us both whole?

Think how appealing in terms of healing

Our lives would be

If you can hear me

Copyright  Marie Williams – July 2011