In the fall of 1986 someone said to me “You write very lyrically. Are you a poet?” I replied pretty vehemently, “No, no, I’m not a poet!” as if I was physically trying to push away the concept. I was also ignoring the fact that I had published poetry in a school literary magazine when I was in junior high. Several weeks later I remembered why I stopped writing poetry. Shortly after that, I composed the first poem I had written since I was 14 years old – and it explained why.
Heartbeat
My heart stopped beating when I was fourteen,
Avoiding the pain that could rarely be seen.
It hurt me so deeply, I pushed it away,
Never to feel what had happened that day.
I published five poems, and bubbling with joy,
I showed them to Daddy, be proud of this boy.
“You’re good for nothing,” Dad drunkenly cried,
In shame I stopped breathing, my heartbeat had died.
I blocked out the words which my father had said,
But ever the message still hummed in my head.
I felt I was worthless, was frozen with fear,
Could not see my talents, yet the signs were so clear.
I followed his footsteps, did what he had done,
I felt like a nothing, but I still was his son.
He had stayed fairly average, so I did the same,
So that a mere nothing would not bring him shame.
The life I endured was seldom my best,
Success I avoided, defeating the test.
I could not surpass the hero still there,
Fear ruled me and conquered, though never aware.
I tried to be happy, but something was wrong,
My heart still carried the childhood shame song.
All my self effort was wind through the trees,
At the point of despair, I sank to my knees.
If the blessing of grace is to try once again,
I stood before God, so to begin.
He asked “Are you willing, now to be free?
To live full of joy, as I wish you to be?”
I answered my life, Dear God, is for You,
Do for me those things which self cannot do.
You must give me the strength, for I am weak,
Many the time I am too frail to speak.
God took the hurt, and showed me the pain,
Gave it back to me, myself to regain.
I walked through the anger, the shame and the fear,
My part to be willing, His to be near.
I thought it would kill me, so deeply it hurt,
I tried many ways, the path to desert.
God guided me gently, feeling to live,
Trusting in Him, with nothing to give.
I rested in Him, the fear washed away,
Along with the wounds of that horrible day.
He has freed me to feel my heartbeat of life,
With peace to replace the old internal strife.
To see my true talents with humble clear sight,
To rejoice in the pleasure I feel when I write.
From God be the power, in myself to believe,
And to feel I deserve all the love I receive.
This is so beautiful, thank you for sharing your God given talents and heart.Thank you!Amy (@Abeeliever on twitter)
Needless to say " This is beautiful".Here you truly speak on behalf of many you alike.Your free rhyming style is very nice to read.
Hi! I have read your twitt and here I am.Beautiful! While I was reading, the words sounds in my head like a song.Thank you for share it!
Ah, you are a beautiful poet, but beyond that you've captured the experience quite deftly. Your words remind me of what I have often thought, "If only someone, anyone at all who cared to notice, had reached in and pulled me out."Even now, I believe that I could observe a playground of little children and easily spot the young "Jennifers" … the kids who are hiding painful everyday secrets under the twin umbrellas of denial and survival. How I yearn to reach in and pull them out. Awesome stuff, thank you for sharing. 🙂
Hi Dan,
Of course I don’t know you, but I believe I can still feel your pain. I’m glad that you have found strength in God but my heart still aches for that fourteen year old boy.
Oh, the things that are done to innocents!
Best wishes,
cory
Thanks for your kind words Cory! Yes, it was tough to see the thing that had happened to me, but a blessing to have moved beyond!
Dan
I have a friend whose mother was a successful business woman back in the 1950’s and 1960’s when we were just children. The mother was way ahead of her time. The daughter, my friend, still lives in the shadow of her mother even though her mother died about 10-15 years ago. My friend is a housewife. She could have several businesses going in the design field or as a healer of some kind. She won’t even try because it would put her into competition with the image that she has of her mother as a business woman. I have tried to show her this several times. She doesn’t want to see that she is holding herself back because of her image of her mother. She thinks that somehow her mother will become less if she herself enters the world of business and she just cannot let that happen. I don’t know if this idea of competition came from her mother or if she herself invented it. To me, it is sad. My friend has so many abilities and natural talents that she is not using.
Isn’t it sad when we see the limitations a parent or a difficult childhood can put on someone? And I’ve seen people think that just because the parent has passed away, it should no longer be the case. But a favorite saying of a friend of mine is “they rule from the grave!” When I’ve got the Dad, or in my case, Grandma limitation stuck in my head, it doesn’t matter if they’re no longer around to reinforce it – it has already lodged itself in my soul and taken control! I think that’s what keeps me doing recovery work – to try my best to release those old limitations! And Heartbeat was and continues to be one of the central events of my childhood. It crushed my creativity, but also, that expectation of “you’ll never amount to anything” ruled my world for many, many years! Thank goodness for all the work I’ve done to let go of that debilitating limitation! A limitation, that after all, was out of my Dad’s fear base, and not about me in the first place! I think you and I will have more to talk about along these lines after you read Freedom! 🙂
Your book came in the mail today. I have already read the first few chapters. I have had a few Waynes in my life—people who appear to be spiritual and then when they are put to the test or challenged, they fail miserably. They have such big egos that get in their way. I have had teachers like that in my life. You follow them until one day you realize that you have outgrown them and recognize their need for hero worship. You still love them for what they taught you but you don’t see them in the same light that you did because your eyes are now opened to their ego.
I’m so glad to hear of your experience reading Freedom! Yes, as ACAs, we have that “authority figure” thing, which was certainly what was going on for me with Wayne! I think you hit it exactly – Wayne could sense in some way I was becoming my own person, and not just worshipping him, so he tried to put me down. Interestingly, he’s still in Houston, but I have never run across him since. I bet his version would be totally different, and very self-serving! 🙂
Thanks for sharing this in the Blog Carnival and for hosting it in September. I got a little behind and am just now finishing reading all of the posts.
You bet, Patricia! Glad to share this poem, and it was a delight to be able to host the Blog Carnival! Wonderful experience, for sure! 🙂