In the Eyes of Her Mother

            

An innocent child, searching to see a benevolent creator

Reflected in the eyes of her mother-

           

But rather than love, reflected there-

A distant, cold weariness- in her mother’s stare

A look of a person circling a wild beast in fear

Met her eyes, as to her mother she tried to draw near

            Confusion, fear, unable to understand-

            What she did wrong, to be treated with such a callous hand-

           

Her innocent trust of what others had said-

            Causing distress in her tiny head

            Where is the loving God church-school told her of?

            And how had she called down such wrath from above?

            For of God’s punishment, they spoke as well

            Saying only children of God were saved from hell

            They said she was a child of God, loved and protected

            But her mother had not reacted as expected

            If she was a child of God, and a child of her mother

            That must mean that God couldn’t love her

            Because every time she saw her mother’s face

            It was clear she was looked at as being a disgrace

            How could she see God as anything but disappointed and sad

            Because she obviously had been nothing but Bad

            Otherwise her mother would be able to see

            That there was good in that tiny little ‘me’

            Torment and pain running through her soul

            Just to be loved, that was her goal

            How could she end her mother’s fear

            So she could be loved, and held as dear

            Why couldn’t her mother understand

            Her mother held God’s image in the palm of her hand

            Until she released from disgrace her tiny child

            God would see the girl as nothing but defiled

            Her mother and God were one in the same

            And she was just a pawn in her mother’s vicious game

            Used to torment her father, out of her mother’s spite

            Her mother always baiting her father into a fight

   

            Portraying herself as the savior from above

            A God of anger and control, not of love

            Always battering him back into his shell

            His own personal living hell

           

            Painting an image of a God that is cruel and unjust

            Expecting obedience, demanding perfection as ‘a must’

            And yet ‘perfection’ she would never let you attain

            For she planned never to let another- her power gain

            If she could keep us thinking we weren’t good enough

            No one would ever call her on her bluff

            For it is her heart that is cold as stone

            And her inner child shivering and alone

            Her image of God lacking all love

            Because she got it from her father, not from above

            And rather than face a God that was so cold

            To her game of control, her soul she sold

            Thinking that some day she could prove her father wrong

            And show that in the halls of “good enough” she did belong

By Mindy Hawk. All rights reserved.

Mindy in the Cradle

Sweet little child, laying there

Sleeping so quiet, without a care

           

Believing in the goodness of the world

Waiting for the sign of truth to be unfurled

Sure that love and truth always came

And that parents and God were all the same

So certain was that tiny little heart

That the realization came with a horrible start

No one came when she wept

Could it be they thought she still slept?

‘It must be that they can’t hear my cries’

So she called out louder, and to her surprise-

Rather than love and kindness to meet her call

Angry words upon her little ears did fall

‘Shut up, it isn’t that Bad-

And you have more than I ever had’

Confusion and sadness, anger and fear

That is not what she expected to hear

Little eyes searched her parents’ face

Longing to see love and Grace

Ripped from the comfort of her innocent world

And into the world of pain and hurt she was hurled

Unable to see others as the ones that were bad

She believed the blame was hers for being so sad

Little Mindy in the cradle, longing to be free

‘If only I could be loved just for being me!’

Little Mindy in the cradle, shivering and cold

Longing for someone to love and hold

By Mindy Hawk. All rights reserved.

I believe in love because…

(To my beloved Godmother. Your love and support taught me that love does exist and that I deserve happiness. Thank you!)

I believe in love because you came into my life.

You opened the door to my heart-

With such a gentle and tender start-.

You've shown me in so many ways how deeply you care

And encourage me to open up as I previously could not dare.

Before you came along my heart seemed filled with only darkness-

cold and drear

Needing desperately for someone to love me and hold me as dear.

You came bearing the gift of belonging

And filled a heart that before held nothing but longing

I believe in love because...

At the time when I needed it most-

You brought love into my life.

Even in the midst of much turmoil and strife.

With your wonderful inner eyes

You saw through my wall of disguise

And reached out to embrace my sweet

little child within

Making it clear to me that this is where love must begin

The truth of your love for me sooths

my wounded soul

And shows me that in time I, too, can be whole

I believe in love because...

You have taught me that it is not just for someone else

Gently you reveal the truth of my inner child

And the love that she holds, so tenacious yet mild

Reminding me of that spark of true love I hold

And encouraging me with joy, in its expression, to be bold

Helping me to parent myself in loving ways

And to look upon myself with a truly loving gaze.

I believe in love because...

You have embodied it for me

With such joy and excitement, this challenge you face.

And enthusiastically reach out, my heart to embrace.

I believe in love because...

I have you in my life.

Thank you for giving me this gift-

The gift of knowing there truly is love.

By Mindy Hawk. All rights reserved.

Too Hard

Its Horrendously hard.

Hard to wake up.

Hard to breathe moment after moment.

Harder still to try to get up and bathe especially since this way too frequently triggers flashbacks for me.

Its harder than hell to look at myself in the mirror and Impossible to love or even like what and who I see.

It is beyond my ability to cook myself breakfast, too many days I go without eating breakfast (or even anything at all), on the days I do eat I manage to drag myself into the kitchen, pull down a bowl and pour cereal into that bowl… and some days when my will doesn't equal the weight that the milk jug feels, I just creep back into bed and eat the cereal dry, or not at all.

Its hard to convince myself to swallow, and hard to make my stomach calm down enough to keep it down.

Then the battle comes to get myself to make the effort to gather the medications together that I need to take.

Knowing that for all the pills I have, and all that I need them, they do not help enough.

Not nearly enough.

Not for the nausea/vomiting, not for the back and neck pain, not for the wrist pain, not for the migraines, or any other pain that crops up.

Definitely not for the seizures, the anxiety, the flashbacks, Prolonged/chronic Post traumatic Stress Disorder, Concentration Camp Syndrome.

But the thought of not having the slim help that they give TERRIFIES me.

So I make myself find the will to get the medications and take them.

On the ‘lucky’ days (being ones without appointments), at this point the effort of doing just the above, with the weight of another day to get through weighing far too heavily upon my shoulders, I crawl back under the covers and beg for more sleep or sleep at all.

Too often, far far too often I get little to literally no sleep for days at a time.

Laying in bed, tired beyond all comprehension, physically, emotionally, mentally, and still unable to sleep.

Then there are the hours I do sleep, where 95% of the time I wake up from a Night Terror that leaves me panicking, scared, confused.

Waking up after as little as 30 minutes at times from these horrendous dreams that mimic my flashbacks far too vividly. The sleeping medication sometimes helps to get to sleep, but doesn't keep me asleep, and doesn't help with the night terrors either.

Too too hard.

Too hard to breathe in and out.

Beyond fathoming any way to wash away these torturous images of depraved abuse I went through.

Too hard.

Hours upon hours alone and too often unable to sleep.

Too terrifying to even try to watch tv anymore because even commercials, colors, sounds,etc trigger these newly remembered flashbacks, dragging me down into their own special hell with them.

By Mindy Hawk. All rights reserved.

The Silent Void

     Silence invades my whole mind. I struggle to hold on to something, anything, but it just slips through my fingers.
    This silence slowly moves through the rest of my body, covering up everything, making me feel empty.

     What to do? How can I get my life back again?

So thick is this silence that I cannot see any of what is on the other side.
     If only I had said something when they first started to cover me with this silence, It wouldn’t have come so far.

     Looking inward through my mind and my soul is like looking out across a planet that is void of shape or form, colorless, and cold. I can find no comfort, no answers,  no stories to be told.

     How could I have let them do this to me? How could I have let them take my life away?

     I try to punch a hole in the silence, to somehow get through, but all I manage to do is make room for more silence.
     This silence isn't of my making, but I’m the one who has to break through it.  Won’t someone please help me, for I haven’t a clue, how can I do this? How can I break through?

     I need someone to help me find who I really am.

     This silence is so strong that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get through it and see what is on the other side.  Others face in, and I face out, both trying to see who I really am, neither able to see.

     All that I can see through this veil is a world with more hurt for me to endure. Where is the happiness? The joy? The light?
This veil is so thick that I cannot see how to love.

     I can’t live in fantasy and the truth seems much too bleak, so I end up in the void in between. I try to swim to one or the other, but the void is greedy and pulls me back in.
     If only I could get through the silence to call for help, maybe someone would throw a lifeline to me, pull me free of this void.
     Deep within me, within my very soul, lies a person waiting to be rescued, to be pulled from the hole.

     Will someone help me? Will they shatter the silence that holds me captive, will they break down the wall?

     This wall of silence is so strong, and so long it has stood that I need others to help or forever I will see nothing but the back of this wall.

By Mindy Hawk. All rights reserved.