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Domestic Violence Poems
Can Be A Vital Part Of Recovery
From PTSD and Domestic Violence Is Facing The Past.

A Big Part Of My Healing Was
Thanks To Rose Oil



There was a time,

in the not so distant past,

that I recall opening my eyes

and wondering, When I saw the girl I was last.

A vibrant soul with laughing eyes

Who relished new challenges with each new sunrise.




A young woman who had loved the sound of

Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Rimsky Korsakov.

Who immersed herself in poetry, art and ballet

And imagined times that in front of her lay.




At eighteen , full of life with opportunity bubbling out

So many choices, it’s hard to perceive

That I did not doubt that I would spend the rest of my life

with the man to whom I chose to cleave.




Yet stagnation grew

I think that the whole of the time he knew

That I would never abandon aspirations

And in the end we both gave up in frustration.




So I left.

Left my poor husband totally bereft

And slipped into the arms of the man whose seduction

Was the start of a terrible destruction.




He was so handsome, witty and charming

At no point could I have imagined him harming

My children or me, but the changes were so small,

impossible to see.




And I loved him, you know, really loved him

And no matter how grim he made me feel

How hard he hit or how many blades of steel

I had at my throat, I could not, would not leave




Its easier, you see, to change the clothes you choose

with a hope that he doesn’t lose

His temper or throw

his dinner up the wall, or worse, give you yet another bruise.




After a while hiding my pain

Became less of a choice but more of a habit.

Just to keep myself sane

I created this imaginary world that was safe to inhabit.




A place where I just existed simply to survive

Told myself, he loves you and you can make the relationship thrive.

That any nasty side he has, can be changed

But any imagination that I had,

was simply deranged.




Any woman that I could have called my friend

Had been cut off by one of his plans to offend,

Any man to whom I spoke

Was a butt of some spiteful joke

or an accusation of an affair

Until soon really ,options of where I could run were no-where




But she did, you see, the girl with the laughter

The giggly one the boys chased after.

She ran for so long that soon she was forgotten

And all that was left were the fixed smiles

Because the rest had shrivelled and gone rotten.




So after seven years

Endless nights of trembling and tears,

No surprise that when I came-to on the stairs,

With bite marks on my face and arms, he'd never really cared.




So I opened the door and walked.

Just walked, and kept on walking

And just tried to block out the voices in my head that just kept on talking

About all the times he’d threatened to kill me and the stories you hear of stalking.




Not as easy as you would guess

to break out, Of that kind of mess.

Every part of my self esteem

He had murdered by his cruel regime.






And the laughing spirit, she was broken

She lurked like a phantom at the back of my mind

She felt like a token that had belonged to someone else

Somehow there were no feelings of ever having being entwined.




Weeks passed, months and years

Nightmares betrayed, in my sleep, all of the fears

Of the torment of the hours curled up in corners

That had lain hidden from the world.




A friend took me in his arms

Rocked me for hours and chased away all of the

Demons that lived in my memory and my dreams and

Promised to keep me safe from harm.




Loved by him and his gentle way,

Trusted and encouraged to make friends

His belief in me transcends

anything that I will ever be able to repay




Parts of me stay closed, undisturbed for dread

of the monsters that lie behind each door in my head

And I know there are things there, that I should talk about.

But maybe some things are better left unsaid.




Behind those doors though, are splinters

of my spirit in tiny pieces, scattered

And just today, I glued another piece I found back

A piece that really, really mattered.




Shrapnel from my wars, the battles that I fought

And won when I broke free from the web that caught my spirit

Honestly, I can’t describe my surprise,

when I looked in the mirror today and saw my laughing eyes.




Hatred has left me, anger still remains

But replacing the bitterness and the pains

Is a love for the man who rebuilt my soul

And gave me back my self esteem that someone else just... stole.




A deep ocean of kindness he has given me

I hope that forever he will be

By my side, and will always feel

How strong my love is - a love that he knows is real.



© Elizabeth Boyd Feb 2006

Against Domestic Violence Facebook Group

Rose Oil Can Really Help Put The Pieces Back Together

Do you have a story or poem about experiencing domestic abuse?

I'd love to see it. Writing this poem was so cathartic to me and it helped me to realise exactly what had happened to me. I feel sure that it breaks every literary rule in the book, and is technically really not very good, but that was never the point.

I would be so honoured if you would share your experiences...if this helps just one person, we will have done something marvellous.

Feel free to change your name for anonimity of safety.

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