A frozen stream of tears
A bitter sweet taste left behind
We are the memories, the vague recollections,
The agonies of knee high vulnerability,
The apron strings I couldn't hold on to,
Though I tried, I tried, I tried.
A door never opened beneath the stairs,
A space left unprotected out of love my dear
We are the memories, the vague recollections,
In the land of the giants gentle yet firm
The apron strings I couldn't hold onto,
Though I tried, I tried, I tried.
Only Jesus intervenes to cradle the child,
Blesses the holes left flagrant and bare,
As deep in the being a threshold holds strong,
Thou shalt not pass, shalt not penetrate,
The spirit that rose up to meet the horror of life
Saying you're saved, you're saved, you're saved.
I will prove you with the shining light,
Stun the witness with my glaring insight,
I will be the living truth to your night of nights,
Endless, endless in my declaration of rights,
And then when I find you shivering and frail,
Will I bless you with the love of His might,
His anvil, His hammer, His peace, His sword,
Brought to you gently
Brought to you hard.
(This is a poem about child abuse. In the light of recent revelations about the 'goings on' in the Catholic church, I attempted to write something from the perspective of a victim of child abuse. Of course, we have all been victims of child 'abuse', it is merely a question of degree since we have all been 'abused' by those in positions of power who, strangely, we thought were there to protect us. Abuse comes in many forms some more permananetly damaging to the child psyche than others. It is a part of the experience of growing up to realise that power is abused and we have to be aware of that reality and to protect ourselves from its consequences as best we can. As children we are vulnerable and we are trusting in an undiscriminating way. This combination of qualities can result in tragic consequences. The poem also alludes to the unique role that men play in child abuse - maybe this is why female priests are not admitted into the Catholic church! For it is to the female that we look for protection from the aggressive male ego ( 'The apron strings I couldn't hold on to, though I tried, I tried, I tried'). The irony is that even in the midst of priestly abuse, it is the human spirit that rises up in defiance to protect and save the soul ( 'As deep in the being a threshold holds strong'). How else could anyone survive such a shocking breach of trust? It is the defiant human spirit that commits itself to the hope of a dis-abusing future. A future in which one day the abused child stands tall and strong as an adult in front of the aged, weak and frail abuser of the past. And in that moment, the abused sheds their guilt ('endless in my declaration of rights'), feels their hidden anger in all its God given glory ('His anvil, His hammer, His peace, His sword') yet refuses to take revenge upon themselves, trusting in the redeeming power of that which provided the original protection all those many years ago ('Will I bless you with the love of His might....Brought to you gently, brough to you hard'). God bless all those abused children - may they find it in their hearts to trust again and create a new future for us all. Amen.)
