Can you see the little girl in the woman? Can you always? I think in my case you can. The little girl is too prefect. The little girl wears her sadness like an old dress. The woman wears her wounds like a shield.
I Remember Life
Life’s first feelings were pain, then fear
A lump of nerve and muscle, soft little bones
The spot of skull not closed, the brain so
Temptingly near the finger probing for any weak spot to injure
That’s all you need to know about my family
Lust and skin hunger trade entry for simple human kindness
Trained to be an object of desire, the model femme fatale
A cast out human child too pretty to live in the eyes of her mother’s gaze
Too tempting for a father to resist, too smart for her own good
Gone to other eyes in other places, other women to mistrust
I tried everything to act normal, needing every drug known
To man to calm the rage just under the perfect skin, to dull
The crazy glitter just behind the big doe eyes, pain just under
The surface of every waking moment, sleep this girls best friend
Forever to have them poke and prod my soft spots at their pleasure
Not allowed to object to my complete objectification I become
Female impersonator always on the rag in bitch heat barking mad
Looney psycho freak fuck dump truck, I have lived life low and
High on everything but life, turned off dropping out all but dead, not for trying
Failed eventually at everything but aborting my own spawn, did not love my fellow
Man but not for wanting, yet I have lived far longer than I thought possible
Now an alien even to myself I offer thrills to no one
Can go unnoticed, unrecognized even to myself. Why this life lived so
Passionately punishing myself for every sin committed against
A woman like me everywhere in any age at all stages of life and time
An object still, she’s a nice old lady with her dog, all the rest at long last dead
©2008 Peggy Pendleton
Democracy Customer Complaints Department
2 hours ago
16 comments:
Sadness creates wounds. Wounds grow scar tissue. Scar tissue becomes a shield against further sadness.
The circle is complete.
'Prefect', eh?
;)
In more substantial matters, a shield can be used for attack as well as defense...But I'm sure you knew that also.
;>)
There is a sadness in your eyes in both pictures.
Makes me want to take that little girl and just hug her until she feels safe and loved.....
((Hugs))
Laura
Jerry, Nicely said.
Darkblack, where've you been? Why are you absent from twitter? Yes, you're right. I took my gifts and turned them into weapons. I'm safe now. This means I'm alone. That broad drove everyone away.
Sunshine I was a very sad little girl. Somebody should have protected me from my family, but nobody did. Happens all the time. I wish it didn't.
HI UTAH-
Fascinating - truly fascinating. I an very much in tune with the 'kid in me'- "Annie", and I can see her in your adult photo so well. I just want to hug her, for a long time.
Love to you
Gail/Annie
peace.......
There is pain in both faces.
That last sentence... your punishment cycle like a human mobius.
And in the end it IS outliving things that seems to work the best, isn't it. People, problems, neuroses, unwanted attention...
Now if only the body wouldn't also lag behind - if only it didn't feel like we were dragging the increasingly "alien" thing along with us, the last of our baggage.
But it seems to me that time not only alienates, it distills. The girl and woman I see in your photos and painting is forever captured in the eyes, and in that beautiful, sensitive bridge of your nose... That's the artistic wisdom I see in your self portait.
I am so,so sorry these things happened to you.
A child has a right to be loved,and to trust in that love,without even needing to think about.To expect that love.
When it doesn't happen it's sad.
When the child's life is made miserable,it's tragic.
I am so sorry Utah.
i agree with jerry ,and with your comment.
"Somebody should have protected me from my family, but nobody did. Happens all the time. I wish it didn't."
I'm left rather speechless. None of this is news to me, but it's still hard to read. Your beauty has always been a blessing and curse, hasn't it?
We should talk when both of us is feeling like contact with the outside world. Okay, that might mean never. Get in touch when you're feeling like it. You still have my number? I have tons of unused cell minutes, if you ever get the notion to call.
This poem by Mary Oliver, reminds me of You (and me) and I don't know how she knows us, except that we are all one…
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
© Mary Oliver
Funny how such powerful stuff comes from a place of fuckery. Funny using the term funny.
Gail, Kevin, thank you for showing up. I know I have become a neglectful friend, but life sometimes makes one reclusive.
Steve, Your comments on my writing are very helpful, sometimes making me see things I hadn't seen or even intended. I'm always happy to find something new in my own work. Thank you.
Sunshine, you virtual hug is much appreciated.
Oso, thank you. I agree that this should never be a child's life.
Sherry, I know you get it in a way very few others do. Thank you.
Lisa, we talked today and it was lovely. In your comment here you point out the one thing so many others never really understand. Beauty can be as big a burden as a disfiguring port-wine stain on a face. It is as much a curse as it is a blessing.
Samantha, Wild Geese made me sob, so powerfully did it strike me. Thank you for recognizing me, for understanding me.
Randal, life does give us much fuckery, doesn't it? But then fuckery gives us material, doesn't it?
Sylvia sent my your way...
Your post touched me.
A SAFE MAN...a man who protects...a man who shows courage...a man who is selfless...a man who hurts no one...a man who lives with firm boundaries...a man who violates no one...a man who give respect...a man who turns away from evil...a man who is always a safe refuge...a man who repairs...a man who is above reproach...may I always be.
Wow. What a punch in the gut. You are beautiful, as EVERY human being is beautiful. Will the pain be your only legacy? That is for you to decide. For now, you do what Anne Sexton did--make art out of the pain.
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