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Being diagnosed with psychosis brought on by trauma is particularly hard to accept and understand. The shadows, the intrusive, racing thoughts and loss of grip on reality is what I try to depict in this poem ‘Kingdoms”

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Covering my mouth to silence my screams. While your voices torment my very dreams.

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The fear abusers place upon their victims to “not tell” is very crippling. The weightiness of carrying secrets and the emptiness we carry are in juxtaposition to each other. It can be very confusing and frightening to speak out about abuse, but it is the way victims become survivors and claim back their voice and control over their own life.

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Blackness , where no thought, nor sound, nor fear can enter.

Blackness with nothingness at its very centre.

A escape from the tormented abyss,

A place for all the pain to dismiss.

Blackness an absence of light.

In many ways the source of my fight.

There is no goodness, where there’s no light.

So why do I hold blackness so close and tight?

Blackness, nothing in sight.

Memories no longer ignite.

No past, no future, no present, no pain.

Blackness is where nothing can remain.

Blackness no source of light nor life.

Nothing in blackness can sustain,

but the absence of life and the absence of pain.

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You never know what people are hiding behind their smiles. Be kind to everyone.

Blue Eyes

Smile so wide and eyes so blue.

On the outside I smile, but no one knew.

That inside I’m numb, I’m broken, subdue,

Boundless desolation torments beyond control;

feelings of darkness and decay in the depths of my soul.

But no one will know….

My day’s are dark and nights grow darker,  Leaving me breathless, restless, my life starker

With each passing night the nightmares stay.

And every passing day the flashbacks play.

There is no end in sight when the torments ignite

 I wish for my past to rewrite for the violence to go

But no one will know....

What I hide behind my smile

And big blue eyes.

No one sees that what I am projecting is lies.

My strengths and aspirations are dissolved;

Transformed into decay, affliction and despair.

Yearning for the pain to end,

To close my eyes and wake up new again.

Yet every waking morning,

The downward spiral continues without warning

For I died long ago.

When they decided to ignore my “no”.

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Lots of rapes result in pregnancy. Not only are survivors facing the consequences of violence and violation they have to face unwanted pregnancy, abortion or miscarriages.

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A body diagram ready to be marked.

So blank, pale, empty and stark

A blank canvas to paint

A real body to taint.

Flicks of black pen like freckles

Shards of glass under the skin,

Acting as a vessel to embed within

Permanent fixtures marking their sin

Zebra stripes of pen

On the page so black,

On my body so red.

act as a camouflage,

painting the bed.

A innocent black line,

marks their crime.

Caused by a knife,

cutting deep enough to snatch a life.

A word formed

So I conform

Branded a “slut”

by their formulated cuts

Numbered patches resemble leopard spots.

Body a bag for their swings and shots

Target practice for the fist,

and any object ever to exist.

Bruises at different stages.

Colour coded to guess their ages.

The chart doesn’t show what the bruises hide.

Everything broken and damaged inside.

The snapping of a rib

Is easily hid.

Odd shapes all over

imprints of objects designed for enclosure.

Body Contorted, deformed and twisted

Causing burns and cuts if I resisted.

The body an ashtray,

The smell of burning flesh

Ropes, ties, my body Enmeshed.

cremation before the death.

The bitter taste of flesh from the smoke on their breath.

This diagram now a piece of art

Not showing the depth of hurt

So removed from the person within

Unable to display the true depth of their sin.

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Silence heard

Through threatened violence

fear puts my words in shackles.

Shame gives the words a ball and chain

The tongue bound so can’t form words

But needing to spill out and be heard.

Words incarcerated, tongue is tied.

I stand in the truth of someone else’s lies.

My realities, my pain, my scars, my shame.

They render me helpless and tied up in a chain.

The pain, the grief, the shame remain.

They stain!

They retain the truth of my broken youth

Oh how I long for the death of the dull ache in my chest.

For the breaking of chains

For the cleansing of stains

For the release from the shackles inside my mind.

To be able to grieve and leave this trauma behind.

Oh how I fight to be free.

Oh how I long for God to hear me.

Oh how I long for God to lift the weight, the pain,

but still it remains.

Oh how I wish God would redeem.

“Have mercy on me” I scream.

Oh how I wish Gods light would ignite the dark ashes in my heart,

smelt the iron chains that chain me to the dark.

Unlock my shackles, Break my chains, untie my tongue

Free me from pain,

Let me feel your love again

Let me sing with praise,

let me laugh with joy

release me to fly free,

To fulfill all those plans you have for me.

To be the person you made me to be.

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Trauma effects your belief system. It understandably has you crying out in despair asking huge questions surrounding Why? When God is omniscient How? Why? This is my poem of lament.

A lament

You bear scars for me to know freedom.

You bear scars for me to know love.

But I fall so far from Eden.

And the peace poured down from above.

You know

The pain in my hidden words.

The pain in my hidden tears.

The pain in my hidden scars.

That I’ve carried all these years.

You say the burden is not ours.

But miss the heaviness of my heart.

The cries that nobody hears.

As I secretly fall apart.

Each scar marks what they violated

and what they stole.

How I was lacerated

And I’m longing to be made whole.

You hold all my tears as they’re shed.

You know all the thoughts running through my head.

You know their stare of no regret.

Their laughter full of spite.

Their violating threats

And how my body took their smite.

You know how they penetrated me.

You know how I fought with all my might

How I was captured for all to see.

You know, you saw, but didn’t fight.

You let the devil tear me apart

You handed him my heart.

You left me naked and afraid lying there.

For a thousand eyes to steal a stare.

What is the purpose for my pain?

Will I ever be whole again?

How do I pick up the pieces?.

How do I repair what they broke?

How can I know freedom?

How can I ever know hope?

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After suffering child trauma the adult can often feel a disconnect from who they are. This is a poem about reconnecting with the inner abused child and walking into healing the deepest hurts within.

To my child self

I have seen you hiding

And wanting to be seen.

I have seen all you endured

And what made you unclean.

I have seen you scared

And crippled in fear.

I have seen you pretending

And seen every tear.

I have seen you grow up too fast

exiled by friends as an outcast.

I have seen you alone

In a room full to the brim.

I have seen your fears

Because of of their sin.

I have seen you without a voice

And no one to tell.

Because they gave you no choice

And had nowhere to go.

I have seen you feel unlovable

Because of the shame.

I have seen you carry the burden

And take all of the blame.

I have seen you feel unsafe

With your life on the line.

I’ve seen the pain

That doesn’t heal in time.

I have seen you wondering when it will all come out.

I have seen the years pass with all of the doubt.

I’m sorry I have seen,

but I have kept you hidden.

I’ve had no place for you

And not known what is true.

As I start to understand what had transpired.

I shoved you down further and feel burdened and tired.

I was fighting to hold onto love

All the fear I wanted rid of.

I was fighting to keep it all secret

As I know you were threatened to keep it.

I was fighting for things you deserved, but where stolen.

And things to fill your hearts hole in.

Left by all those impure violations

And all those broken foundations.

You deserved love.

You deserved freedom.

You deserved a safe person to rely on.

You deserved to be a child

You deserved happiness

You deserved it all reconciled.

You deserved joy

You deserved attention.

You deserved healthy physical affection.

I am sorry you couldn’t have these things

And all the fulfilment all of those brings.

Please know it is safe to come out now

I am giving you a chance to shine.

I choose to see you

And to heal in your own time.

I choose to let you out

give you a voice so you can shout

I choose to love you and accept you

And fight for justice to free you.

I thank you for holding on as long as you did,

For staying small and staying hid,

for helping me to reconcile what those awful men did.

But I know I will never be fully healed without you.

Alone, neither of us will really make it, but together, hand in hand, we do.

You take my hand, and I’ll take God’s.

We will stand strong against all odds Together we will step into full healing, freedom and joy.

All the evil we will defeat and destroy.

Together we will stop being victims.

Together we can survive, liberate ourselves, seek justice and thrive.

Together we will rise up and be free

Come and walk that journey with me.

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Memories after trauma are often distorted or lost. This is the brains defence mechanism to protect the individual from psychological damage. This helps a person cope by allowing them to temporarily forget details of the event. Unfortunately the memories often return when you don’t expect them and this can be distressing and confusing. Anyone that might be in this position please know there is hope in the midst and healing is available to everyone.

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Flashbacks are traumatic and invasive. Sufferers often cannot distinguish between the flashback and reality making them equally distressing as the event of the trauma itself. This poem tries to describe the flashback experience

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Rape examination rooms are so traumatic for those who are vulnerable. So clinical and medical. Seeking for evidential information becomes a priority. A priority bigger than seeing you under the surface and saying “we believe you”

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Excoriation or dermatillomania is a mental health condition which causes compulsive skin picking. Sometimes this stems from trauma. Mine manifested itself after abuse and the intense feeling of being unclean and needing to remove my skin/ scars. This poem tries to capture that emotion.