In darkness we walk; we are survivors of the night. The dark raven still flies; we fear no fright. In suffering we have been tried; blood and fierceness in our eyes. Our seasons of weeping have strengthened us; hard resolve is in our cries. Let now all in our congregation in unison rise. Let the earth’s soil remember the tears of our torment; let the four walls echo the whispers of our days and nights of agony. We have been made strong in our endless affliction; we present the dreadful scars of trauma, and the world is aghast. We have been rejected and unloved even by our own fathers; our anguish and misery is the pain of our mothers. We live in darkness like vampires; our hands outstretched longing for the sunshine, but seemingly rejected by the light. The dilation in our eyes tell the tale of our secluded existence. We are but mortals with hearts full of love and pain. Our forecast are grey skies and eternal rain. We swear now an eternal oath, that the traumas of our childhood eternally sleep and shall never rise again.
Tag: Mental Health
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In my nakedness
The truth is revealed;
I am cold.
I am desolate. -
In her he finds comfort. In her he can have a moment’s peace.
-
I am a child of the night
Hear my growls of hunger
See the pain that I suffer
Witness the eyes that have
Seen what can never be unseen
Hear my cries
Look into my soul and see
The dark secrets that
I withhold from my mother
See my tears and the hurt
That I daily suffer
Witness the pain inflicted
By a real life monster
Who causes great harm
And nights of insomnia
Record my dreams of
being a bird in flight
And escaping the torture
See the scars on my mind
And on my soul
Witness the physical and mental
Trauma that takes a double toll
See the land of peace
That my mind has devised
Where there is no more pain
Only love and clear blue skies
Hear the screams that awaken
Me at night
The bad dreams, the fear, the fright
See my Christmas list to Santa for toys,
And for the suffering to go away
To be accepted by my peers at school
who tell me I’m not wanted,
And exclude me from their play
See my poverty and the laughter in class
From boys and girls of a different class
Feel my anger and feel my pain
Feel my sadness walking home in the rain
See my ideations of not wanting
To be here anymore
Looking at cars go by
Wishing I wasn’t poor
See the feelings of pain
And revenge that I hide
That I’ve never told, and eat me up inside
This cold cold world is no place for a child
I’m sorry I have to go; the street lights are on
Mom says I have to come inside. -
For lost loves and broken hearts
For the sufferers and torn apart
For wonderful dreams and peaceful streams
For the intimate moments we hold sacred in our memory
For the survivors
For the resilience of depressed single mothers
For the hopes and dreams of loving fathers
For the time you told me I was a good son
For the time I told you I loved you more than anything in this world
For Julia, Alvara, Herminio, Viveca, Howard, and Esmeralda
For making me a drink and sharing a cigarette with me when I was in tears
For loving me for the time you did
For the love I poured out unconditionally to all I’ve loved
For Sandy and the time we rode the 2 train to Grand Concourse
For summers in New York
For the pizza shop around the corner from Burke Avenue that sold the best slices
For my grandmother
For my mother
For the promise I swore to myself at an early age not to be a non-existent father
For the first time I told you I loved you, and meant it with all my heart
For understanding and genuine compassion
For the anguished who think they can’t hold on any longer but always find a way out
For those who are gone and dearly beloved, whose memories will live on forever
For Irish coffees at any time of day and good cigars
For the lonely and the pursuit of genuine love
For the tired and weary who take long rides on city buses to make a living
For the victims of abuse
For the homeless who quietly cry in dark abandoned buildings in sleeping bags on cold nights
For all of us. -
As the small
Yellow pills wear off
Thus begins his
Descent into hell. -
The last tear is shed. Wide eyes stare but see nothingness. Her makeup is perfect; her eyes, a beautiful shade of green. Lush long golden brown hair hangs off the back of a chair like a beautiful waterfall; a beautiful and solemn song plays in the background but she cannot hear it. The complexity of her, the potency of her love, her intricacies …
Hear their love for you in their weeping and the stories they tell of you. Hear them whisper your name in the twilight and in the darkness of night. Hear the songs sung about your many exploits, and about your wonderful spirit. You are indelible upon them; you are sealed upon their memory.
The beauty of you … my god, the beauty of you.
You live; you yet live.
-
Dark stillness abounds but still restful sleep seems to evade.
Tears run on soft pillows; the agony of the dark early morning
inflicts even more anxiety than the night before. Light is sought
but dark curtains are drawn to shield the eyes from the pain of
slow adjustment. Weary eyes have become accustomed to
the darkness. The years of praying no longer suffice. An existence
is what is left … he wants to live again … he wants to touch the sky.The darkness plagues unmercifully and darkens dreams.
The suffering increases slowly year after year. The seasons come
and go, and he has forgotten his age. Turmoil is made manifest
in the frailty of his body. He remembers the comfort of his mother,
and yearns for her presence; to comfort himself he whispers
her favorite hymns. He’s become a vampire that wants embrace
the light again, but will the light accept him or confine him to
eternal darkness? He takes a shower to start the day. -
See me now.
See me in my wretchedness;
See me in my pain.
See the eyes that have seen struggle,
And the nights of dark rain.
See me in my anxiety;
See me in my tears;
See the toll of heavy burdens
I have carried over the years.
See the life that is within me;
See the deep hurt that I carry daily.
See me in tattered clothes on the street
Begging passersby for money.
See me in abject poverty;
See my illness that is invisible to many.
See me sleeping on church steps in the winter;
See me wishing for peace and eternal slumber.
See my hopes and see my dreams;
See me in linen white
Resurrected in light by a peaceful stream.
Intimate Compositions 