My new friend Linda who is in one of my writer masterminds writes so poignantly about her past abuse. With her permission, I’m posting these pieces to inspire you to give voice to your past. For whatever reason, I, too, do better writing in stanzas than paragraphs when it comes to my healing. Scroll down to the bottom of this post to find out how you can download Linda’s free guided poetry journal.
Poetry for Healing By Linda L. Kruschke
Sweet Scent of Rain
The wafting scent of petrichor
Will remind me forevermore
Of streets lined with eucalyptus
Where my friends and I played, thus
Those were the days of fun and cheer
Memories that I hold so dear
Before, before the terror came
And life was no longer a game
Oh take me back sweet summer rain
To when scraped knees were my worst pain
Bicycle rides on dusty roads
Catching pollywogs, snakes, and toads
Our little dog would bark and scratch
While we hid in the garden patch
Mom had told us Go pull some weeds
Why are they here—we planted seeds
Weeds often grow among the tares
Some people say God never cares
There was a time that I agreed
I believed He forgot my need
He allowed pain to enter in
My memories tainted by sin
Engulfing me in endless torment
And yet He also left this scent
A reminder of hope and peace
Assurance pain one day will cease
Flooding my mind with memories
Of joyful times I’ve been at ease
Life’s a balance of rain and sun
An inkling that when each day’s done
I’m one day closer to the truth
Pain tried to pilfer in my youth
The truth that I am beloved
My future’s not something to dread
My memories aren’t who I am
I belong to God’s perfect Lamb
The Power of My Wound
Healing doesn’t happen all at once.
Sexual trauma runs deep,
is much too complex for simple remedies.
We have no magic wand or
to bind up the wounds,
erase the battle scars.
And should we want to if we could?
Would we walk away,
pretend it never happened,
we were never assaulted
violated… hated… berated…
made to feel shame and doubt?
Could we ignore the very truth of what we
know was wrong… evil… the vilest of all?
Could we simply walk away
and cease to bear witness
for those who come after?
Or maybe for those violated before
our own innocence was vanquished
but are yet to heal at all?
If we could be healed completely
in an instant, in the blink
of a selfish, knowing eye…
But to do so meant leaving
our sisters, our friends,
our daughters, even strangers,
without the hope of #MeToo?
Could we? Should we?
Because to heal 100 percent
I think is to forget every ounce,
every moment, of
the pain and struggle.
And to forget is to lose compassion.
So perhaps it is worth the
ups and downs of scars
that appear healed but sometimes,
more often than we’d like, bleed tears
of understanding helping others
feel not so alone.
Often I’ve prayed God would grant me
For years I prayed to forget.
Those prayers have gone unanswered,
or answered with a resounding
“No, My daughter.”
Then I remember that
without my wound
I am not me.
Without my wound
I lack compassion
A scarred and broken heart
is worth more in God’s kingdom
than all the rubies
in Dorothy’s slippers.
When the safety of home
and intimacy with our Creator
is what we seek,
our traumatized soul will transport us
better than clicking the heels
of ruby shoes.
Without my wound,
the scarring of my heart and soul,
I am powerless.
Now I pray that
my bleeding scars may
drench my fellow survivors
with hope and peace,
and the divine power to say
“I understand. Let me show you the way.”
Linda L. Kruschke is a recovering lawyer and sexual assault survivor. She writes candid memoir and fearless poetry, and delves into hard issues others tend to avoid. She aspires to show women that God’s redemption and healing are just a story away. You can learn more about Linda and get a free copy of her guided poetry journal here: https://anotherfearlessyear.net/i-believe-you/