Please Don’t Leave Me Here All Alone

Please Don’t Leave Me Here All Alone

Away you go on a trip of which I cannot join,

And I am afraid.

Afraid you’ll go never to return;

Afraid you’ll die;

Frightened I’ll never see you alive again;

Frightened I’ll be alone

Forever…

Left behind…

Forgotten and unloved…

Unclaimed.

Unwanted forever.

ã19 December 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Recovery

Recovery

Pain, how I hate you,

You excruciating fiend,

Who causes me to cry out with the agony

Of a tortured mind and heart

That tears and ruins my body

And destroys my very soul.

You’ve made my life as miserable

As you possibly could…

But, you failed.

I live. I cry.

I breathe. I sigh.

I think. I try.

I love. Oh, my!

Pain, you gave all you could,

And you still try to wear me down,

But you might as well give up

Because I will banish you one day to hell…

You cannot ruin my spirit—

I will overcome!

I am a survivor, and I will fight you…

And the battle’s just begun!

ã17 January 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Loneliness

Loneliness

Alone.

The oppressive silence

Cuts into my heart

As I cry

Silent tears.

Hello?

Can anyone hear me?

Only my heartbeat

Answers the cry

Of my heart.

God?

Have even you left me

Alone…

All alone in my sorrow?

No answer…

Except

My aching heart

And tired mind.

Strange, you see,

Because there are so many people

All around…

But no one sees me.

Ignored.

This stuffy bubble

Called isolation—

Not of my choosing

But assigned to me—

Crushes me.

I see the people

And smile…

Try to talk…

But silenced by

Their indifference.

Oh, God!

What’s wrong with me?

Why does nobody want me?

Do you also

Not want me?

I weep.

Silent tears,

Shuddering at an icy wind

That only my heart

Can feel.

Alone,

   Afraid,

      Aching,

Acutely aware that others

Feel as lonely

As I do…

But are they also standing here

   Nearby smiling, chatting…

      And alone, too?

God,

You are everywhere,

So come out, come out

Wherever you are

Because I know

You’re here…

   But where are you?

Why does my heart

Feel all alone

With an aloneness

That cannot be broken through?

Oh, God,

It’s terrible torture

To know and to do

All the right things

And still feel empty…

   And alone.

God,

I know you can hear me,

But why do you—even you—

Hold yourself aloof

From my heart?

And my pain

Of feeling

All

Alone?

Is there no reprieve for good behavior?

O-o-o-oh God!

Help me!

Such lonely aching

I could die from…

But torturously,

I still live…

Alone

Even with you and people

All around me.

Utterly alone.

Oh, God.

This icy wall of separation

Is too penetratingly

An agony…

Oh, God,

If you do not bridge it,

I will die…

Alone.

To know in my head

That you have

Is not enough

If I do not feel you there.

Oh, God,

Please let me know you

And feel your presence

In my aching

Lonely heart.

Ó22 January 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

 

And the Child Cries

And the Child Cries

Guilty! Branded!

Declared unclean!

Pariah! Scum!

What does it mean?

To be shunned,

To be outcast,

Outside, unwanted…

How long will this last?

Hurting so deeply,

Yet feeling numb,

And being too smart

Just to play dumb.

Aching and empty

Yet trying to hope,

Fears, hurt, anger,

Trying to cope.

Yet what have I done

To be treated this way?

It must be quite horrible

Because no one will say.

ã23 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Panic Attack

Panic Attack

Cold, slimy fingers creeping up my spine…

   Body hair stands up.

      GASP!

Can’t breathe.

   Pounding heart.

      Dry tongue.

         Sweat.

A nameless terror tingles my colon.

   A knot here…

      And there…

PAIN!!

   Tense.

Eyes w-I-d-e open…

   Yet blind.

Straining ears are deaf.

Chilled,

   Yet burning up

      By turns.

Racing thoughts.

Escape!!!

Yet paralyzed.

Even tears have fled the scene…

   Silently screaming

IN PANIC!!!!!

Yet remaining

   Deadly

      Still.

ã22 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

I’ve Heard This One Before

I’ve Heard This One Before

Oh, little one, stop crying now,

For you are now safe and sound.

Just settle down within my arms.

Let your heart now cease to pound.

Rest your head upon my chest

And rest your troubled mind.

It really is quite pleasant, dear,

To take you from behind.

No, don’t scream from pain or fear.

Don’t anyone disturb.

You’re all right within my arms,

So don’t you me perturb!

There, there, it’s over now.

That wasn’t so very bad.

It’s just because I love you so.

Now aren’t you very glad?

ã19 June 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

So When Will I Be Good Enough?

So When Will I Be Good Enough?

Mommy, where are you?

I need you right now!

I’ve always tried to please you,

But could you please tell me how?

It seems the very best I do

Is never really enough

To meet your expectations of me,

So you treat me very rough.

Am I really so offensive

That you cannot treat me right?

Isn’t it cruel to say one day

That you just might…

…might what?

Am I not allowed to know?

Or is this just your way to say

You’ll keep me under toe?

ã19 June 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

But, We All Knew You Lied

But, We All Knew You Lied

Through the eyes of innocence

You saw yourself laid bare,

And because you could not handle it,

You made yourself not care.

The pleading eyes of a frightened child

Clutched your heart each time,

But you couldn’t face yourself just then,

So your child became just slime.

The silence roared through fiery eyes

That continued to hope and plead,

Wounded, alone, and buried alive

Under a heart that would continually bleed.

Why? The eyes asked.

How could you do it? They cried.

But, I love you, you said,

And the child wouldn’t believe you lied.

ã19 January 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Of Living as in a Fog

Of Living as in a Fog

What brings this gloomy thickness

Of living as in a fog,

Where mourns the death of innocence

Yet not admit the fall?

Why think it odd the pain you feel

Or the burden borne?

Think you’re not like the others now?

Think you’re different?

By your own words you admit it so:

You are their kith and kin.

No temptation have you felt thus far

That is not common to man.

ã6January 1991, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Sing for Me in Minor Key

Sing for Me in Minor Key

Sing for me in minor key

And syncopate the beat.

Let there be dischordancies.

Let the words repeat.

Sing me a song of pathos:

Tragedy with a flair—

A song to dance and weep about

With a haunting air.

The triumph of the spirit,

A victory of the soul,

Taking all life can give it

And come out well or whole.

Now with brighter tempo,

Sing me in minor key

That bittersweet song of survival

And life abundantly.

ã5 January 1991, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

Now Silent

Now Silent

Stories oft heard, stories oft told,
Stories how often I said had grown old…
Now silent.
It was such a bother to listen
That one hundredth time more…missin’…
Now silent.

But, I still had plenty of time—
Could tell it myself on a dime…
Now silent.
Little details here and there
Seemed as common as the air…
Now silent.

The empty chair haunts the room;
The stories must somehow resume…
Now silent.
Never knew how silent silent could be…
When I had the chance why didn’t I see?
Now silent.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.
All rights reserved.

Hard Facts Harder Faced

Hard Facts Harder Faced

Who said our soldiers could not be psychos?
Who said we always are saints?
Where is it written we do the right thing
And never show evil or taint?

War is hell, lest we forget it,
And crimes of war even much more…
Can we train a human to kill, not to feel,
Without evil allowed in that door?

Rape is a tool and an agent of war.
So is massacre, torture, mayhem.
Even a good man can snap to a monster
And live only to slay ‘em.

None of us are guiltless, much to our pain,
But we are trapped in this way,
If ever we forget the humanity of victims
From Coshocton to Mai Lai.

© Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 2000.
All rights reserved.

Personally Balanced

Personally Balanced

If I were sweeter water still
And not some brackish brine,
If I were only whippoorwill
And not a herd of swine,
If I were only oak and ash
And never knotty pine,
If I were only lakes and trees
And not a deep coal mine,

Then I would lack the bass-er notes
That swell the symphony,
And I would even lack the pain
And tears of sympathy;
My life would only be so flat—
No room for empathy,
And I would—perfectly dull—
Not have much company!
(C) 5 January 1991, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Who Are You? Me!!

Who Are You? Me!!
Dark, deep swirling in the river of my soul,
Sucking whirlpool and crashing wave.
How I’ve longed to trace you and
The devilish pain you gave,
But I never could quite discover
Even who you were, you knave.

Struggle, strive, stretch, searching,
Desperate to find relief,
In every nook and cranny,
Turning over each stone and leaf;
I hounded you to dispatch you—
To rest finally was my belief.

Who are you, my constant companion,
Who I fear, hate, yet long to see?
You outwit me, and you mock me,
Yet you fit me to a tee.
I hate you now I love you.
How dare you be me!
(C) 5 January 1991, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Determined

Determined
In the heart of my heart is a door
Long locked and barred.
Aching. Yearning.
Deep desire.
What passion ruled me there?

I want to be loved, respected, admired.
I want to be an artist, serene.
I want to be saintly, earthy, risqué.
I want to be alive in all ways.
I want to be graceful, wise, fun, and deep.
I want to dance, sing, and run.

A secret compartment deep in my heart,
Buried yet ever with me.
Blocking. Preventing.
But not anymore.
Because I am determined to be me.
(C) 31 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

My Eyes Have Told My Story All Along

My Eyes Have Told My Story All Along

I looked at some pictures the other day,
And, boy, what a big surprise!
I wasn’t as ugly as I was led to believe,
Regardless of my age or my size.

It was a stranger looking at me,
Yet I recognized my big sad eyes.
My story told a story amazingly clear.
They saw through a life of lies.

Fixed eyes and focused, sad and alone,
Waiting for the unseen…
Eyes filled with a purpose yet gentle and kind,
Fiery and strikingly keen.

Sweet eyes yet haunting,
Knowing yet stilled,
Ready to pounce,
Yet sealed.
Scares eyes and timid,
Searching for love,
Questioning without answers…
Hawk with eyes of dove.

Mysterious yet open,
Guarded but real,
Penetrating,
Much to reveal,

My eyes told my story
There all along,
But no one saw it before?
Clearly something’s wrong.

Yet my eyes covered it up,
Hiding inside,
Remaining undetected—
My life relied.

Yes, I looked at some pictures the other day,
And, boy, what a big surprise!
Seeing myself for the very first time
In my quietly beckoning eyes.
(C) 30 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

That Old Nameless, Faceless Fear Again

That Old Nameless, Faceless Fear Again

I have known the terror
Of never being sure
Just when the next trauma
Would engulf my little world,
Of living out a nightmare
Yet appearing very good…
For whom?

I have known the terror
Of never feeling safe,
Of being ever vigilant,
Of pretending to be sedate…
How docile and passive—
Like an electric barbed wire!
But who cared?

I have known the terror
Of sleepless nights and sleep-filled days,
Of feeling lost and wandering
Through a mine-filled maze,
Of always looking back and forth,
Of never being sure…
Of whom?
(C) 23 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

A Wound for a Heart

A Wound for a Heart

Bubbling, boiling, heatedly churning,
Frothing and foaming, emotions are burning
Into my heart, my stomach, my head,
Violently reeling alone on my bed.

I cannot stop thinking. The memories come…
Upheavals, eruptions, but just feeling numb.
My stomach is knotted; memories play in my mind.
Tormenting and mocking, my life in a bind.

Furiously hating, bitter rancor,
Anger, hurt, fear: my grudging anchor
Holds me in place, frozen in time—
Will I ever be free from their despicable crime?

Sapping my energy, draining my life,
The past cuts right through me like a well-sharpened knife.
Will I ever be freed from my past?
Will I ever find peace in my heart that will last?

The chains are too heavy, too tight and too much,
Tangled, intertwined with my soul in the clutch
Of their cold, evil fingers, tearing me apart—
Big, gaping wounds in the place of my heart.
(C) 17 January 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Comfort My Love

Comfort My Love
A cold northwind pierced my heart today
As the face of my love in anguish beckoned to my soul…
Snow and ice can never freeze out
The warmth and fire I send to my love
As grief stalks between worlds
Of living and beyond…
So, speedily, dear wind, take my gift
Of heart to my love
That he may be comforted now and always.
(C) 11 January 1999, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

Down the Cavern of Memory Turned

Down the Cavern of Memory Turned
Sorrow like flooding overflowing the banks
Of the river of heart swamped full;
Grief in the bones of despairing flanks
The mind's darkest desolation to pull.

Only half-remembered times of goodness went
To chase the agonies of all gone wrong;
Without the joys of the heart well spent,
Sadness drowned such happiness as song.

But deeper still than the darkest pain,
The loving heart may remain
Calm.
Even deeper again than all that's sane,
A knowing of peace 'came
Psalm.

(C) Copyright, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 6 May 2010. All rights reserved.