The
Darkness of Ritual abuse…
Even for people that have no
experience with it, the term conjures up Dark images, terrifying thoughts.
For me:
Reminder of Dark places,
Dark actions perpetrated,
Violation
Desperation
Humiliation
Trepidation
Intimidation
Dark deeds,
Dark minds with Dark thoughts,
Dark Plans
Darkness masquerading as Light
Darkness masquerading as God
Darkness masquerading as Love
Filthy Bloodstained hands reaching out to assault me yet
again.
Filthy Bloodstained minds plotting their next attack
Filthy Bloodstained Cross held high as a sign of a Miracle
Filthy Bloodstained body lying on the floor
Filthy Bloodstained heart, broken and torn
Crazed look in her eyes showing she is Hungry for more…
One lying on the floor, not enough anymore…
Must find other ways to harm,
Not enough for her, the bloody body, the broken arm…
More and more, that Cross-, oh that big Cross
How better to connect her thirst for Blood
With her self-appointed God-hood
No matter what you do, or say
You can not keep her at bay
She looks for reasons to quench her craving
The smallest infraction sends her raving
I beg and plead
Cry to be freed
The more fear I show,
The harsher her blow
The more pain I feel
The more glee she will reveal
As the blood begins flowing
Her hunger is growing
Darkness lives in her eyes
As the hope in mine dies.
She knows I know escape is past,
That my lot is cast
Throat closing in horror, as I feel her dig her nails into
me
Pain searing through me
Air choked from me by her stranglehold
Clothes ripped from me, such small protection
Against such Horrible Evil
Upon that Cross,
Upon that Altar
Made to Bleed
Thirst drives her
Blood
Blood
Blood
Upon that Cross
Upon that Altar
Made to Bleed
Memory,
Cursed Memory
Why?
Upon her Evil intent
Upon her Vicious lust
Made to Bleed
Out those wounds poured more than Blood
Out those wounds
Poured me
Less and less, I stayed
More and more I Strayed
Fear of God growing so strong
Until all I knew was wrong
Upon that Cross
Upon that Altar
Made to Bleed
And still too ‘Evil to be Saved’
Each time closer to ‘the way of Christ’ (aka Death/ Death upon the cross)
Each time farther along the path to Evil
How many times before I die?
How many times before I lie-
Still, under the dirt behind that building
‘Neath that tree, branches knotted and knurled so
Deep in the woods where so few go.
Why me?
Why does she say it is Me?
Why does she say I am the daughter of Satan?
Why?
First Natalie, and then me…
How long before I follow completely in her wake?
How long before I reside below the soil?
‘A Testament to all for which she toils’
In a grave beside the others whose own truth, would not
forsake
To Save the rest from Evil and Sin
Until the Hunger again begins
And She deems that someone else “Sins”
Why me?
Upon this Cross?
Upon the Altar?
Is all lost?
Upon that Cross
Upon that Altar
How much more than me
Suffered He?
Tortured and tormented
Raped and Bled
How much more than me
Suffered He?
His Death physical
Upon that Cross
Upon that Altar
My Death, emotional, spiritual
And still not Saved
How much more than me
Suffered He?
Must I die physically
To have “Died to Self” sufficiently?
How much will it take to be Saved?
Once for all, that is what She preached
Until her interest was no longer
piqued.
Then no longer was His death and His
Blood enough to Save me
Against all laws, against all Truth
To suit her Whims she changed the
Path
And put me on the side of Evil
Not Washed in His Blood,
For She said I was not fit for that
Washed in my own Blood
And still not Saved
Each time I touch The Book
I see again me-
Upon that Cross
Upon that Altar
Made to Bleed
Tortured and tormented
Raped and Bled
And Still not Saved
Hear them saying “Evil, that is what
you are, and you must pay the price…Christ Died for his children, not Satan’s!”
How many times before Salvation, my
Bleeding brings?
How many times before I feel Death’s
Sting?
How many times before that Cross
becomes my end?
Upon that Cross
Upon that Altar
Made to Bleed
From this Sin will I ever be Freed?
How can my Savior He be
When I nearly died the same as He?
He and I both Blameless in this
much,
Nothing did we do so horrible to
cause judgement as such.
How much more than me
Suffered He?
His path, he knew when to Earth He
came
His choice, to die for all the
world, that salvation we might gain
No choice was I given
No chance to change the events
No great purpose for my torment,
Only to give her sick Hunger a place
to Vent
Once, He was upon that Cross
Knowing that He would go to God’s
new life
Many times they hung me,
Raped, beaten and bleeding
As an example for all to see
Knowing that this time I might slip
into the Forever-sleep
Upon that Cross
Upon that Altar
Made to Bleed
No hope for salvation for me
Upon that Cross
Upon that Altar
Made to bleed
How much more than me
Suffered He?
Who needs such thoughts, such
blasphemy
But from my mind, these thoughts
will not flee
He went to His Peace,
I went to living torment
Which is worse?
To Die a horrible death and rise to
God
Or to live…
After being tormented and tortured
so?
Dying a little more each day,
From God, Falling away.
How can I reconcile my experience
And my need for faith?
How can I believe in His Love and
Saving Grace?
How can I open to Joy at His Selfless
Act
When thoughts of it conjure such
horrible pain from the past?
Will these memories ever flee?
Will the pain ever fade?
Will I ever be able to do as God
Bade?
I fear no, for how can one forgive
such torment,
Unless you are Christ?
And then, He had Choice
How can two people, both born of a
Human
One be so Evil, the other so Just?
Why would a loving God allow humans
such horrible lusts?
These questions, they haunt me so
The answers, I fear, I will never
know
Why must I go through such agony?
By Mindy Hawk, All Rights Reservered
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