Tuesday, June 21, 2011

It Circles Round

It Circles Round

Vague coursing
Snaking inwardly
Back and over and under
Up and around
Then back down again—
Unknowingly knowingly unknown
Shifting, sifting, lifting
A restless, rootless
Wildness…
Refusing continuance
Bound and chained
To a life not my own.

(C) 11 October 1994, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Issues. Everybody’s Got Issues.

Issues. Everybody’s Got Issues.

Identity crisis would be just fine
Had someone not just smashed mine.
“I found myself.” “I lost myself.”
Everywhere: self, self, self.

Hello and how do I do?
I’m very sorry, have I met you?
Yes, I met me the day I’s born;
Then I left me all forlorn.

Oh, you poor and silly me.
How could you possibly not know me?
All my life I’ve felt so dizzy.
Gosh, finding me has kept me busy!

(C) 22 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

P.T.S.D. Begins

P.T.S.D. Begins

Pinch me. Am I alive?
Yes, but I do not feel it.
Isn’t it strange to be alive yet feel dead,
Such deep wounds and never reveal it?

Nobody knows. Nobody sees.
Nobody knows except me?
Everyone knows. Everyone sees.
Everyone knows except me?

Constant turmoil. Constant calm.
Brightest clouds. Darkest sun.
Scorching rain. Pouring heat.
Standing still on the run.

Hiding in the open field;
Cowering in the hidden den;
Am I really so innocent
Drowning in the deepest sin?


(C) 22 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Self-Observation & Self-Discovery

Self-Observation & Self-Discovery

Focusing on sensations puts us more directly in touch with what's motivating us, while at the same time helping to free us from the story lines which tend to obscure our feelings. In this way, greater awareness to our sensations increases our emotional sensitivity. ~Marshall Glickman
One of the more healing concepts for me was being made aware that I could get to know me and could discover more about me by seeing my body's reactions to whatever I was choosing to focus on at the time (for example, trying to discern why I cared about something said or done,) by allowing myself to feel whatever it was I was feeling, and by watching to see what arose in and from those feelings, which was not always easy to discern. Observation, listening intently, and just sitting as a sacred witness to me was revolutionary in concept alone. All I was requiring myself to do was just to observe myself quietly, receptively without judgment or rush to do something about whatever I was feeling.

Even with my continuing attempts through the years to practice this observational skill to get to know me, there are still many times I baffle myself, and that is fine. It means I need to spend more time getting to know me. Sometimes I care about something that has very tangled, deep roots that curl around poisonous substances within my memories or psyche that are still too traumatic for me to handle well yet. That, too, is fine. I give myself permission to be as complicated as I am with respect and acceptance. I try to be gentle and kind with myself with whatever I observe. Of course, I am still learning this as I am not prone to being gentle with myself and also tend to hurt myself deeply often. I have a long way to go in learning to accept, respect, and love who I am.

But before I can really love, accept, and respect me, I must know me. This is why I learned this practice in the first place. I also discovered that before I can truly love, accept, and respect someone else, I must be able to be offer these same kindnesses to me.

22 March 2011, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

My Quotes Dealing with Abuse Issues

17/06/11
Why take the drugs when you can live here & have a bad trip anytime you like? The only side effects are insanity with a bad attitude. No boredom, but it comes with a big price tag - you'll never know what is reality ever was... if there even IS a reality, one that seems never to go away. Welcome to the nightmare time. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw
15/09/10
Do we ever in this life know why things turn out as they do? Some of what we think of as our worst flaws saves us much grief while some of our best strengths don't help when we think they should. Still, all works together for us in ways we don't always see. Nothing is as it appears. So, I say relax more, enjoy, & work with whatever happens. Might as well smile, too. It's free. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw
21/01/11
Brave smiles to hide the tears ripping a living heart asunder. Such sad eyes. Why can I not reach you with my hands? You are so far. But, I can reach you with my heart. Can I move mountains to love you? Will it be enough? So many mountains need a very big heart. I can & I must try. Love & Life demand it. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw
22/01/11
Decades later she still heard the terrified screams, smelt the blood. The words "she talked" burned, locked her in an extreme-still silence. No visible sign of emotion was safe. Ultra-sweet compliance was her defiance & survival. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, Baby Tears
25/01/11
Moment by moment I am training myself to respect all of me as a whole & worthwhile person. I am learning to turn scared into sacred. I am learning that I really am who I am, & who I am is exactly who I was meant to be. I am learning this is the same for all my relations in creation. AND, it is a joy. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

Love’s Crumbs

Love’s Crumbs

She runs as if from danger,
Running with no time to spare.
She’s running as from a stranger fate than she has found there

In her isolated little room
Where her phone is her only source
Of life ouside her lonely tomb…
Draining of life force…

She’s too sad to sit and weep;
She’s too numb to feel;
She’d prefer to eat and sleep…
Upon her lips a seal—

You don’t miss what you’ve never had, do you?
She wonders.
She’s not had much share of joy…
She sighs, thinks she’s bad…
Her eyes are sad yet full
Of life…
She’d give her all for a crumb of love
And swear it’s the best she’d ever had…

She walks through life not knowing
Her own beauty or her power
Has a lovely way of showing
Her as a rare and beautiful flower.
ã12 November 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Scandal Mongers

Scandal Mongers

Off on a tangent, as though knowing all,
The reality of facts ne’er from their lips fall.
The heartbreak of scandal on innocent heads
Embarrassed beyond all shades of reds…

Speculation’s a game that has many risks.
Judgment’s a call of many tsk, tsk, tsks.
I told you so goes up the cry
Even if the truth be there to deny.
ã4 May 1999, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Harsh Forgivings

Harsh Forgivings

Life is like the ocean…
Its vastness is fluidly changing
Second to second
Even when calm;
The harshness affords little mercy,
But the depths hide many sins.
ã14 April 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

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.

Instinctively Led

Instinctively Led

With hope as the anchor for my soul
As I feel so tossed and torn,
With steady course before me set,
I walk though weak and worn.

Others tread similar paths
Even though I feel alone.
I know my anchor will continue to hold
Even though I feel cut to the bone.

Confused and clear, numb and pained,
Trauma upon trauma relived,
Agonized hauntings my memories come
To make my whole life sieved.

Yet deep in my heart I hear the voice
Of God speaking to my spirit,
Telling me exactly which way I should go,
And, thankfully, my spirit can hear it.
ã22 October 1992, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

OK, But Don’t Tell Me I’m Going to Like It!

OK, But Don’t Tell Me I’m Going to Like It!

What do you do when you’re all alone
And it strikes?
You cannot scream loud enough,
Or get numb enough,
Or run fast enough,
Or sleep deep enough
To escape again.

And you know escape is not even the answer.

But how do you welcome torment,
Embrace agony,
Beckon to torture,
Entreat misery,
Cohabit with trauma,
Flirt with devastation?

And damn it all! That’s the only way out.
ã31 October 1992, 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.

A New Awakening to an Old Knowing

A New Awakening to an Old Knowing

God, I thought I knew you.
I thought I really did,
But when I really needed you,
Your face from me you hid.

As I searched for you and struggled
In the death roll of great pain,
What I thought I knew and had known before
Went racing through my brain.

Shattered, broken, shaken…
Something held me from long before,
Planted deep within my spirit—
Some supposed forgotten lore.

A deep voice sang in my ears again—
My heartbeat—the drum beat same,
“Look up, my child, and see the stars,
And know from whence you came.”
ã3 December 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

The Reclaiming of Me

The Reclaiming of Me

Why does it matter what you think of me?
Why should I be bothered by what you say or see?
Why does it upset me if you think I’m bad?
And why does it scare me if I think you’re mad?

Why do I not see myself as a person of great worth?
Why do I not see myself as valuable to Mother Earth?
Why must I torture myself, tear myself apart?
Why must I never heal the great sorrow of my heart?

Why can’t I see myself as a beautiful, strong woman?
Why can’t I just be me, under the thumb of no one?
Why do I hesitate to take up this warrioress’ fight? 
Why do I not trust myself to my vision and my sight?

Now I see it more clearly—the gynecidal plot
That tried to keep me trapped within something that I am not.
Arise, my soul, be strong against your foe,
For everything you really need inside your heart you know.
ã4 December 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

To Be Fully Aware

To Be Fully Aware

Pensively searching, questioning within,
Analyzing, sifting, scanning without stop
The whole of my life—and not just what appears
On the surface…
The eyes of my heart,
The heart of my soul,
My very essence,
My spirit…
Watches,
Searches,
Seeks,
And knows
Far more than I dare accept now,
But if I opened myself to all my perceptions
And lived by my real convictions,
Would I be happier, wholer?
Or would I be more threatening, threatened?
ã19 December 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.
The Real Within

Protection that is only without
Cannot protect the within,
For what is without can be taken away,
But what is within remains.
In death we cannot take the without.
Only our realness within will go.
ã19 December 1993, 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.

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

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.

The Healer’s Dance

The Healer’s Dance

Healing..
A lover’s art, the alchemy
Of assurance,
Respectful knowing,
Confidence…
Only touch,
A smile,
A nod and a wink,
The giggle, the blush
Of ripening wholeness dancing
Throughout the intricacies
As the body awakens,
Alive—
Potential unlocked by trust,
The healer and the healed…
The magic.
(c)13 August 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Remember, Oh Heart, You Are Not Alone

Remember, Oh Heart, You Are Not Alone
The fire that burns inside that causes fear, that brings deeps sighs, regrets,
The drowning sorrow, the uncertain waves of sea so unpredictably below
Your life's ship, the memories play, tolling on...
Sometimes alone despite the crowd, the heart cried out, oh secrets!
That cannot come back but cannot go forward into the undertow
While the sea's waves go rolling on...

Remember, oh heart, what once you loved is ever within and around
You. The love changes form and offers more, for love is.

A lover's kiss, a mother's touch like the purr of a baby cat,
The sun drenched land, the cleansing rains,
The seasons continue on...
Today the hill has berries growing, tomorrow will have grasses tall,
The sun and the rain do not mind the change
The hill produces love.

Remember, oh heart, what once you loved is ever within and around
You. The love changes form and offers more, for love is.

Your tears may fall, your heart break, you feel all is lost,
Your compass broke, the ship struck ground,
And it seems time has left you behind...
But tides do change, are changing now,
This burning, this drowning, these sorrows, these fears,
Are but a cleansing time for something more dear...
For love is...
Always.

(c) Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 17/10/2010. All rights reserved.