I’m going to start this a little backwards. I wrote this poem on 5/20/1996, and to be honest, it is terrifying to contemplate sharing this in such a public way, even now. This poem was written after the first four years of therapy to help me cope with the incest my maternal grandfather inflicted on me, from about four to five years old until thirteen years old, and other childhood sexual trauma I survived as well. There….I SAID IT!!! And here goes…..
Music has often carried my soul
to forests filled with beauty old.
A place where peaceful breezes stir
the needles of ancient stands of fir.
The padded, springy woodland floor
can offer great escape, and more.
For quietly my feet can find
a path towards some peace of mind.
My lungs can stretch themselves and breathe
the clearest air you can conceive.
The muscles of my body, then
relax and use that oxygen.
A lessening of pressure starts
the healing of my aching heart.
And then, I find the perfect place
to sit and revel in this grace.
The only person there is me.
No other eyes to probe or see
the painful reasons I must fly
away from where my soul would die.
My need for this cerebral flight
is awful, when brought to the light.
Most people do not want to hear
the madness of my early years.
They wonder, “Can’t you let it go?
Why do you let it hurt you so?”
LET IT?! Like I have a choice!
Like I can stop these inner voices!
Nightmares, flashbacks, panic seizures,
loss of memory, health and pleasures.
These aren’t things that I would choose!
These are things I want to lose!!
The thing that they don’t want to see
is just how harmful it would be,
to act as if, my life’s just fine
and incest hasn’t harmed my mind.
I cannot change who I’ve become
before my work on this is done.
I hope that someday they will see
the “me” that I was meant to be.
So until then, I’ll fly away
and heal with music, in my way.
While looking forward to the time,
when sweet serenity is mine.