Lucky~

depressions

little dimples where life

pressed

its marble sized hollows

excessively

until my skin absorbed

each moment of pressure

and my body became a tattoo

of fingerprints

handprints

leaving their mark

a

     n

           d

I could cry

or sharpen my blade

however, they are mine

my pain

I prefer to own them

these slivers of memory

I wear

like strips of cloth

around the bend

where

every strike to knees

scraping existence bloody

arrived involving  a lesson

in inflexible reality

coaxing early maturation

to manifest

as

either

humanE in the human

or inhumane in the blood speckles

at the corner of a child’s mouth

beads

perverse cultivation

always delivered with a bruise

or two

birthing those flat eyes

that are like thick ink

at the bottom of a bottle;

I was lucky to escape my fate

lucky to be given a quill

instead of a bottle

to bleed my pain

 

copyright:2010vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Reviews

[Ron]

Hi Selene, Like I said before I feel your pain I was abused and used starting at 4 years old . Too many of as have . I loved your poem and almost cried for you and myself. But we are survivors and no man or woman should beat, sexual abuse, dehumanize or shame another person. The scars are forever torture, but like you thank god I have had other things and good people remind me that not everyone is cruel! Your sword is the pen but it dosent hurt to have you katari handy. Thanks for touching my heart and reminding me Im not alone. Your writings are like a pain pill and a scar remover at the same time. Lots of Love Ron

[Fran Marie]

a powerful piece so deeply expressed and well written~

nice job on this onE!!

[Frank F. Atanacio]

wow, your words reached a turning point, I liked it very much great share :)

[Aven]

Selene... Selene... a wonderful, heartbreaking, empowering lesson bled from a pen of abstraction and vivid emotion... a unique drop of poetry saturated with pain and sympathy... but also the image of a jade empress whom they couldn't break, melt or mold into their own... brilliant!

[Geralyn Miller]

While I was never abused, I grew up in a home where my Mother took in children who had been abused. (As if seven of her own were not enough) My Father made sure I had the physical skills to disarm and nullify any abuser who came to attempt to regain their victims. My Mother had RA and lacked physical strngth, but she had strength of spirit. No raging man ever expects a child to knock him down and hog tie him for the police to pick up. I have heard from the mouths of children who came in with scars and bruises and stitches and scabs, casts and terror in their eyes. I have held little girls , my age at the time while they wept from nightmare horrors, night after night You could say I stood between two worlds, the world of abuse and the world of love. I am glad your past did not end in drugs or alcohol; your voice is important in the work to end abuse of children and women.

[Champagne]

Beautiful imagery - 'little dimples where life/pressed/its marble sized hollows' - fantastic.

[M. Stein]

I absolutely love your syntax! It reminds me so much of E.E. Cummings. This is really well written, kudos(:

[Revolutionary]

this poem played with my mind.It made me think of puberty and ageing I thought about adiction to crystal meth and the way that you never apreciate the scars life has given you to remind you what you have done.It is very mind bending

[Emily B]

I was lucky, too. Every day I try to live in a way to reflect that.

[:)]

Wow, you are beautiful....

And so is your talent.....

[Sunflower 20]

this, this right here. This is the power of words. :)