Sisters joined in a circle of sadness,
Each story unique but all too familiar,
The survivors showing how much healing is possible,
The new girls ashen-faced, whispering,
Their bruises just beginning to fade.
We share the common themes of our lives:
Words that scald when poured
Over our unsuspecting heads,
The conflict of our emotional urges
And our instinct to flee,
Men with a knack for charm
And a penchant for destruction
Who crush our spirits, leaving only
Jagged shards that shred our sense of self.
We cry, we hug, and we scatter away
To face the darkness alone
Until next week.
8 comments:
Yes, they always seem to be deadly charming when they aren't being soul-numbingly cruel.
A week is a long time.
a week is a long time...at times seems like a harbor...it is important to have those in our lives we can walk through it with...and share the burdens...as long as we choose not to live in it...
In others we find our curse, and in others we find the way to break it. Strong and moving poem.
What a vivid picture you paint. heartbreaking.
A touchy topic, close to home... Jagged shards that shred our sense of self... I know how to feels to walk on shards... but the day comes one day, when you raise your head and find that you have walked through the darkness and back into the light. Very succinct and touching.
heart-felt poem. This line really stood out to me - Jagged shards that shred our sense of self. It's so sad but there is hope in the support of others who have been there, too.
I have never been to a therapy group ..but with your poem I felt I was there ..thank you x
We find solace in the company of others. Yes, sharing of moments can be inspiring. Another week can mend a grieving heart or catapults a lively soul to higher levels. The goodness of mendings, certainly!
Hank
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