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”]

 

Secrets

Tags

awareness, child abuse, communication, healing, hurt, metaphor, pain, peace, poem, poetry, self-knowledge, therapy

Are secrets really secrets?  How long can a secret remain a secret?  Doesn’t everything come to light at some point?

 

Secrets

Long before I knew my mind, you took away my right to know my mind, and in so doing took the very essence of me, that part of me which struggles now to know who I am; the real me.  You came and with your honeyed words drew me into a maelstrom of deceit.  I felt confused, but could not fight you because you were bigger than me in every sense of the word.  Physically, you were bigger.  Mentally you were bigger.  Emotionally you were bigger.  You were simply too big for me and I was too small.  What did you see that day you came to me, smiling, with evil in your heart, evil on your mind, evil guiding your hands?

You believed your secret was safe with me.  But you could not be more wrong.  Oh how you gloried in your misdeeds and how you luxuriated in the wrongs of someone with a secret.  You laughed mockingly at the small soul who kept your secret safe within her heart, never fearing that she could one day part with the sorrow that secret held for her.  That secret which tore her dreams to shreds, prevented the seeds of miracles to unfold.  The secret which stopped her from being bold and taking hold of all that was rightfully hers.

Ah but time has passed and with that passing has come the desire to cast aside the mire in which she passed her time, for she could not call it living.  It was a poor substitute.  The secret explodes and each dirty shard is tossed into the air, it is there for all to see.  You seek to deny it, you question the reliability and demand evidence to support the claim. Surely you are not the one to blame?

Your secret was not safe with me.

~MEW 

 

 

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

Stronger

Tags

communication, harmony, healing, hurt, inspiration, journey, love, metaphor, Oprah Winfrey, peace, power, prose poetry, self-knowledge, therapy, tranquility

Yesterday I started to read Oprah Winfrey’s “What I Know for Sure”, and I found it “Bible-like”. It’s a good book to keep close by to refer to on life’s journey. It is full of truth, authenticity, guidance, self-love, love for others and wisdom.

The cover of the book is beige and green and it has an oak tree on it. The oak tree is a symbol for me of faithfulness and strength. Its sturdy trunk is rooted and unshakeable, and a place where I can rest my body if and when I need to. It wont collapse with my weight. It will stand firm and hold me up. Its girth will give me a sense of stability – something like when you are a small child and you run to your mother and put your arms around her. Your arms never quite reach to clasp, but that solidity and warmth, comfort and reassure you.

I am feeling fine today. I meditated for a while. I am getting stronger each day. I feel loved and wanted and special. Not knowing what the future will bring for me does not scare me. I am grateful for my breath, my body and my ability to write. These gifts are precious. They are worth more than gold, but I will not lock them away in a vault of fear, for fear that they will be stolen from me. I will display them and trust that they will stay. I will take these gifts, treasure them and hold fast to them.

~ MEW

The Blue Door

Tags

approval, Blue door, colour, discovery, door, heart, poem, poetry, prose poetry, recognition, therapy

Image – courtesy of TheCrazyBagLady

The Blue door

My head is very clear today. Not jumbled or stifled or even unclear. If I focus on the things that are important to me, I will come through fine. This is not a race or a competition, I feel it is an opportunity to open doors that have been closed to me for a very long time. Which doors have been closed to me? Well there’s a door which is coloured light blue with a white door bell and a black knocker. It is regal looking as if it belongs in a palace. I’m not sure what’s behind that door, but I am very interested to open it and have a good look.

I’m pushing it now, but it is stiff and I really have to put my whole body against it. It gives and flies open! The room is dark, but once my eyes are focused, I can see shapes. There is a heart. It is red and pulsating and vibrant. It fills the room. The glow of promise and dreams gets brighter and it has a perfume: one that I do not recognise. But it makes me want to breathe in deeply until every part of my being is filled with it, and I look around in wonder to see what else there is within these walls.

I feel a sadness that I am only now discovering what lies behind the light blue door. But tinged with that is hope, hope that this room with its pulsating heart will always be available to me. I close the door, and touch my own heart: it leaps with recognition and approval.

~ MEW

Nature’s Therapy

Tags

coils, healing, journal, love, nature, poem, poetry, prose poetry, roses, sunlight, therapy, white paper

Nature’s Therapy

I have music playing in the background and it reminds me of what it feels like to be loved. It is soothing and calming and allows me to escape from pressures that are constantly with me. I feel I can express those feelings through writing on this paper. This paper is white and the colour white reminds me of purity. There are no blemishes on this paper. I want to feel as pure and spotless as this white paper.

Today, I drew a picture with coils and hearts and the sun. I’m not sure what this is symbolic of. Coils could be my tightly wound inner being which is trying hard to be loose and free. The hearts could be my yearning to feel loved and accepted. I wrote: “my love is like a red rose”. A rose is so beautiful that this is what I imagine love to be like. Perfectly formed, delicate, rich in colour, soft and gentle like its petals. Drawing me in to examine, admire, contemplate and touch. I’m not able to turn away from it because it is so beautiful that I just want to keep looking and delight in its beauty.

The sun could be the light that allows me to see. The light shines and there is no darkness when it shines. It shines into my soul and lights up my being.

~ MEW

Heaven

Tags

angels, blogging, flowers, Heaven, poem, poetry, sanity, sea, sky, therapy

There are always going to be days when we find ourselves in situations which can only be described as “heavenly”.  Some years ago I sat on a hotel balcony in Cyprus, basking in the heat of the sun, feeling happy and relaxed.  I glanced around and admired the view and my surroundings and it occurred to me that I was experiencing my heaven.  It occurred to me that heaven doesn’t have to be a far off place, in another dimension.  Heavenly feelings and thoughts can be experienced in simple things – it can be right now, right here …

Heaven

Heaven is not in the sky

Heaven is where I want it to be

Heaven is here on the balcony

Heaven can be there walking by the sea

 

Heaven is to the right of me

Heaven is to the left of me

Heaven surrounds me

I must not go looking

I must not go searching

 

Heaven surrounds me

Heaven is in a beautiful flower

Heaven calls me in a church tower

Heaven beckons me with angelic fingers

Pointing accurately to the shores of infinity

 

Heaven’s door never closes

I can approach it in small doses

Or I can jump in fully clothed

In moments of sanity or even insanity

And bathe in the glorious swell of its tidal wave

 

Heaven chooses me

Heaven doesn’t exclude me

Heaven is where I want it to be

And for that I am thankful

 

© Marie Williams  July 2009

Who Am I?

Tags

hurt, pain, poetry, self-knowledge, soul-searching, therapy

I’d like to think of myself as an individual with my own identity, thoughts, feelings, ideas.  But I think my very essence is made up of the people who created me and I am the sum of all of their identities, thoughts, feelings and ideas.  Whether I like it or not, the very core of me reflects my parents.  How can it be otherwise?  Is it not the same for everyone?  Although this might be the case, how I choose to be and to live my life is down to me.  I have the choice to reject or to accept those parts of me which validate who I really am.  I HAVE THE CHOICE AND SO DO YOU!

Who am I?

I am my mother’s smile

I am my father’s anger

I am my mother’s calm

I am my father’s rage

 

I speak my mother’s pain

I speak my father’s loss

I speak of what remains

I speak of plenty and of dross

 

I lived my mother’s happiness

It wasn’t hard to do,

I also lived her real distress

It was my undoing too

 

I lived my father’s struggle

I lived my mother’s peace

I lived for harmony: sweet release,

I lived ‘twixt heaven and hell

 

Who am I, then?

That’s the question:

Smile, anger, calm, rage

Pain, loss, happiness,

Struggle, peace, sweet release,

I am the sum of all of these.

That’s who I am.

 

Copyright Marie Williams – August 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

My Lighthouse Waits for Me

Tags

analogy, doubts, fears, guiding light, help, inspire, journey, lighthouse, peace, raft, safety, talking therapy, therapy, whisper

Emotions are such powerful feelings. Anger, sadness, joy – we all feel these at some point in our lives. How do we cope with overwhelming sadness? Should we strive to feel joyful all the time? I really don’t know the answer to these questions, but I know there is an inner well of support which can be called on and this can take the form of words. It is amazing how words strung together can lift you. Words can come from within and without (listening to others or simply reading what they have to say). My Lighthouse Waits for Me does exactly this for me:

MY LIGHTHOUSE WAITS FOR ME

Today we talked of floating in the sea
Of doubts and fears, and misery
We talked of love and peace and self
Together we made a pact to delve

Into how the future looked for me
And what I gained or lost from therapy
And how I felt that it would be
Where was I now in terms of safety?

My analogy came back deeply profound
Floating purposefully in the sea,
Clinging to my raft, but not desperately
From where I sat, I glimpsed the shore

She smiled and nodded thoughtfully
And with genius it seemed to me
Suggested with a twinkle in her eye
“Let’s aim to build a lighthouse for you to see”

“That would make your journey so much more
An easier passage for you to bear”
I brightened visibly at her analogy
So glad we were sailing in the same boat!

So there my lighthouse stands true and proud
Whispering silently it beckons me on
“Don’t give up now”, it says to me
“I’m here for you, your guiding light”

“Too long you’ve floated aimlessly,
In a rough and stormy sea,
Just keep your eyes focused on me
I represent peace and tranquillity
In your life”.

© Copyright – Marie Williams – July 2009
My Lighthouse Waits for Me