Ramblings of an Old Woman

Ok so I had a powerful day, WOW!!!! Earth shattering POWERFUL!!!!!!! We are reading some strong books about culture and identity, how culture shapes our identity through race, religion, family, social class, just to name a few. We did this powerful image meditation where we were supposed to think of our culture, something that stood out for us that impacted our lives, the first thought that popped into my head was what culture? The only thing that shaped my identity was dodging the swings and living on the street when I ran away...Then I thought OMG!!!! This is a culture, of culture of lies, of abuse, of vicious dark secrets that everyone is so afraid to talk about. We are afraid to mention what everyone is so desperately trying to hide behind closed doors. We are a culture within a culture we are the human by-products of society butchering of the families, the human dominance over another human, whether it’s personal, racial, cultural, or spiritual. Abuse is a culture that has two faces; one that is presented to society, God forbid if anyone should ever see the real thing, then there is the one that is seen only by those being abused. This is culture most don’t want to face, for we all have been there at one point in our lives. But for those who have walked this path longer than most, we find it filled with pitfalls, shadows, and unspeakable anguish. We may deal with the pain and hide it well, but the scars run deep and even though we do get the help we need sometimes there is a trigger point that sets off a whole string of memories and when doing image meditation sometimes it can bridge that gap and becoming a healing process for a very painful time and place. This is what happened to me today, I debated on whether I wanted to share this, but I thought why not? I have shared my journey with all of you so far, why not continue, so here is my latest in poetry, it gives a rendition of my vision today. "The house is dark and quiet , high in a shadowy room , there is a child whimpering , softly as not to bother a soul. Why do you cry my child? She looks up with a start , her green eyes rimmed with tears , Shh she says, he will hear you . I stand looking at the child , a ghost from ages past , a small child, a little scared, a little pudgy, and a little sad. She sits curled up on the bed , which is kind of wet , she says, Shh he will hear you, he will be angry , hit, taunt, and make me wear my wet underwear, around my neck to school , where they will make fun of me. She quietly sniffs , my heart wants to reach out , to embrace this small wee child . Here let me help you , quickly change the bed , she scrambles to the edge , that’s when I notice , the different colors upon her skin. I could see the outline of a huge hand laid upon her thigh , my heart weeps at the sight of the pain upon her wee soul. I quickly strip the bed , changed her clothes too , hiding all the evidence I quietly tuck her back under the warm covers , I wipe away the tears , I still see upon her face . See now he will never know I said with a smile on my face , I gave her a hug , she returns one so fiercely , almost took my breath away. She whispered thank you , tomorrow I will be safe , walk with my head up and not looking upon the ground , there will be no new marks , to hide from the world. She gently kissed my cheek , whispering, it’s ok now , you can awake…. I found myself hugging not her but me, repeating over and over again , it’s all over now , You are safe.