A fellow New Thought minister and online friend wrote this poem. It moved me deeply. If you grew up in an abusive home, you may relate to her pain. Susanne has now found love in her life. She has done a lot of healing and is now helping others. It is a testament to the strength and courage of her spirit and the power of love.Â If you are experiencing abuse in your life right now, reach out for help. Tell someone--a pastor, friend, the police. If you are an abuser, the same is true: reach out for help. Now.
Mom hit us with her fist.Â Hard.
She also hitÂ me over the headÂ
with 1" thick broom sticks,
I can still feel the dent--
she stripedÂ our legs with lathe
Â or switches, smacking with
either side of her hand,
hitting me with an iron skillet. Cold.
Anything that was handy really--
if she was mad and I was nearby.Â Â
Mom slugged me when I was tiny.
I would fly across the room
and land on the furniture,
arms and legs akimbo, stunned.
Or I'd smash into a wall and drop
to the floor in a shriveled pile.Â
I don't remember being hugged
or kissed, or having my hand held
gently, kindly, guidingly.
I remember my arm being jerked
one way or another,
lifted off the ground like a rag doll
My shoulder painful, sore.Â
I don't remember being loved, but I remember loving,
I remember loving each of
my two sisters and two brothers,
and even the one who was sent away-
Adopted by strangers,
not spoken of aloud by the adults
in the room, whispered about
with my sister under the woven bedcover
in the chilly darkness at our grandparents,
or in the wagon wheel bunk beds,
When we were lonely and wished for someone
to love us more than a fist.
Please visitÂ Susanne FreebornÂ on her blog: http://open.salon.com/content.php?cid=97018