In the Bottom of a Hole (poem)

Trying to block out the piercing screams of yesterday
Some days it seems like an eternity away
Other days,
I'm in a haze,
And it feels close
Like the nose
On my face.
Reaching for a sense of who I am,
Of who I was before . . .
Was I somebody back then,
Or have I always been this empty shell?
I have no way of knowing,
There's no easy way to tell.
I think I remember a little girl
That used to be me.
That used to believe in goodness.
In beauty.
In truth.
But that was long ago.
Where did she go?
Did I bury her with the babies I lost?
Was that part of the cost - -
Losing my soul in the midst of the storm?
I wish I could cry.  I wish I knew why.
I wish I could understand the reasons
For year after year of those seasons
Of waking nightmares in a living hell.
I wish I didn't remember it so well.
I wish I knew how to navigate this road,
How to straddle the potholes that emerge
Without falling back into some bottomless pit
That has no end to it.
I wish to hell that none of it was real,
That I could stuff the agony I feel,
That I could make some sense of it all.
But I can't.
It's just more and more and more of the same.
More leg-spreading, gut-wrenching, mind-blowing pain.
More heart-breaking, soul-bending, self-splitting shame.
And to think that to him it was only a game!
So here I sit, not knowing what to do.
I don't know when all this "feeling" will be through.
Do I hide? Do I fight it?
Is there any way to right it?
Will my mind forever be a shattered mess?
Is there any way to navigate this?
How do I let it go?
How can I just say it happened. It sucked.
And then walk away.
As though it didn't matter.
As though it didn't shatter
Every part of my soul.
I'm really struggling to see
What the point's supposed to be.
I don't want to be a victim.
I don't want to let that dick win.
But I feel so stuck here . . .
Like I'm in the bottom of a hole
That I'll never crawl out of.

No End in Sight (sonnet)

I don't want to feel this way anymore,
Struggling to make it through every day.
The laundry piles up in mounds on the floor,
And I can't make the dishes go away.
I drag my wooden body, place to place,
Sometimes, I fear, without my mind intact.
Yet always there's a smile upon my face,
They always did say I could really act.
Six o'clock arrives, I'm ready for bed,
But the work isn't done; neither am I.
My blankets cry out to snuggle my head.
I can't wait to sleep so that I can cry.
The days pass by, they never seem to end.
Right now my pillow is my only friend.

The Storm's Increased (sonnet)

I saw a lighthouse drawing me to shore,
A beacon of hope lit my shadowed path.
Distraught, I prayed in anguish to the Lord,
"Please let this storm I'm fighting be the last."
The thunder raged about me 'round the clock,
The waves came up and over on the deck.
I felt my ship pulled near the jagged rocks,
Yet still I clung to hope and craned my neck --
Yearning for a glimpse of the distant shore,
Longing to be rescued from all the pain,
Buffeted by gales I couldn't ignore,
Drowning in bucketfulls of pouring rain.
Just when I thought I'd find a resting place,
The storm's increased and trashed my flimsy faith.

All Sorts of "Friends" (sonnet)

I see only Darkness, as I look on;
A fog of Unknown, Unheard, and Unseen.
Pity's potholes fill the road walked upon,
And Hope gets lost so easily between.
Like a frightened child, I look all around
For someone who's willing to be my guide,
Someone to lift my feet up off the ground,
Someone to walk faithfully by my side.
Injustice waves a hand in the cold air
And volunteers to share my lonely path.
Depression tiptoes in out of nowhere,
And Doubt races to me through the high grass.
I'm not alone, I have all sorts of "friends."
It's this blasted journey that never ends.