some moments create deep fissures
in the skin of our souls,
as though splintering the heart,
penetrating even our deepest being.
Posts tagged Survivors of Domestic Violence
suddenly the storm is me
my emotions rage and tear the air like debris tossed about in a wild wind
i will not be peaceful if it means dying with the words suffocated behind my lips
i will not be a shadow any longer
i must stand in the light
even if it is a storm
I am in favor of the “get out while you can” strategy, rather than that “try again” claptrap that is preached and prodded and counseled by the best of the educated but uninitiated. If you go back, or keep trying to fix the thing, you could end up dead. Or worse. (And yes, I can assure you that there are worse things than being dead.)
Our baby son died in his crib just before he was five months old.
“You must have walked in your sleep and smothered him.”
He was such a happy baby, he had great big belly laugh and he loved to bounce on a knee, anybody’s knee. His sisters adored him. At two and four, [...]
Happy Sunday! The sun is shining (whether we can see it or not) and the world is still spinning out there in space, and You are Free! You are Safe! No one will hit you today. No one will break any of your bones today, or shoot at you, or throw the entire honey [...]
(Photo courtesy of Pink Saris.)
Sampat Pal speaks volumes with few words in Pink Saris. I can add nothing to her wisdom:
Women have nothing but their tears, what else do they have?
If a woman tries to do anything, its a struggle.
We were starving on the streets, no one cared.
People only love you for money.
Perhaps education is the key. Perhaps learning the truth and offering what help we can will make a difference. I believe that Middle School is the best place to address young people about personal violence – before they start dating, before the become just a piece of “property” in the sexual violence world. Help them if you can. Write a check. Offer your services. Teach your children to respect one another. Do something. Do anything you can. Nothing will change until we change it.
Excuse me, but battered women function at a very high level. They manage to dance between death and its expectation every day of their lives. They shop, cook, clean, and clean, and clean, do laundry, take the kids to school and back, and humbly serve their “master” while planning, privately, to open the earth under him, or some other especially violent retribution for their pain and humiliation.
My story is all over this site. My two little girls told me that we had to leave, “before he kills you.” – I could no longer pretend they didn’t know after that. So, we walked out the door one lovely morning, headed for their school, and never went back. A [...]
I was a child of the Cold War years, (you know, The Bomb; dog tags with name, address and religious preference; hiding from nuclear annihilation under our plastic school desks) . . . We were ten years old and the end of the world was our future.
We had no tomorrow. We didn’t even have [...]