Spectators look at the triumphant survivor and applaud,
Heaven sees the same survivor in the context of her history
and stands in awe.
 

©linda settles
 

She knows, she sees but  disagrees

with what her senses tell. It cannot be!

Can not... Oh, well...

The years wing by and childhood screams

Against injustice, silently.

Oh, treasure ruined, oh awful cost!

"Now I lay me down to sleep"

Beside the bed on dirty floor

she kneels

No bath could wash away the grime

she feels...

I'm Stepping Now....

A poem about moving beyond abuse...

A poetic word about the importance of maintaining a quiet time...

A Soul Set Free

Unbounded Joy

Unfettered Grace

When I think of all we've been through--valleys dark and shadows deep
The trembling child who thought she walked alone on barren steeps
The howling tempest of a storm that snatched her breath away
The crouching tigers in the night-the slinking beasts of prey,
That came at her with salivating grins and razored claws
Wolves in clothing of a sheep, all bloody fangs and paws.

Trust is the broken thread that unraveled long ago in the heart and soul of the victim of abuse.   She trusted, she believed, she was deceived, and her heart was stained with the quiet violence of a perpetrator's lust. She was taken in, and took the blame for her own victimization. Only now, as she walks the path of recovery does she dare to believe that it was not her fault. She has been told: "No matter how you responded, no matter what you said or did, if you were a child when the abuse began, you are not to blame. You are not to blame for the invasion of your soul by the perpetrator of abuse. He may have seduced you, or used bribes to induce you, he may have threatened to do you harm, or kill the ones you love. It doesn’t matter the method that he chose to gain access to your soul. He knew things you could not know, and used them to bend your will to his.For that, he will answer to the Father of us all."

Love poured out through broken vessels...

Sometimes it's time to look beyond
the suffering of the past
To lay aside, for just awhile,
the questions and the tasks
of processing the pain, the loss
the strugle to believe
that there is purpose in the pain
 and joy in sorrow's sleave.