Description: be kind to me... i havent written a word in years and tonight has been rather rough already...
a night to remember -------------------------------------------
you wont remember
but I called you
and I told you all about how
something bad had happened
only I couldn’t tell you
because the words were too big
too ugly, too shameful
the words didn’t cross cultural
i said he hurt me
my voice was shaking
i knew if I cried you wouldn’t understand
i remember what you said
about what your mother said
about men who hit women
i knew you wouldn’t understand
and eight years later you still don’t
and that’s okay
sometimes the word rape is too big
even when english is your first language.
This poem reminds me of the song Savior by Rise Against. For some oddball reason.
And to be frank, (even though my name is not Frank), to call somebody that will not sympathize while you tear means you called the wrong person.
But it is understandable. Sometimes our fingers can be too long or too short and our vision muddled with unresolved anger that in the heat of the moment we dial the wrong number and make the wrong call.
But this poem also reminds me of the song Walk by the Foo Fighters.
this is very true jaydee. it's heavy. it's noble that it's okay. that you're compassionated enough to be okay with someones lack of understanding. i think it's impossible for those who haven't experienced to understand. it's very brave and big hearted of you to post this.
1. There is no way on gods green earth that I could critique your words not ever able to, they to me are living and to cut/bend/break even a vowel just does not to it justice.
2. How on this gods great earth is it even possible to be hard on these words after what they have bared...giving, hurting, confused only as to why it needs to lay down so deep. No, beautiful, no bashing these words they speak truth and they should be praised for doing such.
3. Singing it loud for all to hear. This is the way I dealt with it all and I haven't met many that could (ma & pa taught me to sing early). Every soul carries burdens in different ways...some lift it up to the sky, others bury it deep below...and then there are those who have it held in the in between. A constant hover where there is no covering from it. Whichever way helps the heal or the dealings.
4. Holding it close, not being able to tell tru because of fear that it will not be understood or accepted...heightens the fears already festering.
It rips and tears and peels and bleeds and and and. Catch 22 in many ways.
5. I am all heart no brains sometimes. I read and bleed and cry. I feel the pain and shame and hurt all the more because I recognize the soul on the other end. Beautiful, you have lived, like so many of us, a long hard road but one thing I have always admired about you is that light you shine in the darkness of it all...and you beam it so bright and reaches so far...people bathe in it and it is beautiful to bask in. Gosh, I just loves ya and wish words could help or mend or whatnots.
I know this is a horrible comment and I always wander and stray a bit when overwhelmed but you know me...always feeling it the way it reads.
(insert the biggest warmest shakiest hug here)