Heartathome

I was only married for a month when DOCS put my stepson back with his dad after many years apart. His dad was a DV perpetrator and proved it by attacking him when he wouldn't do as he was told. It was so bad that he asked to go back into foster care. I left soon after with my five-year-old son!

A Stepson

A little boy lost, returns

So much changed, he was eight

Back with dad he wanted to be

But the added extras he would hate

I tried so hard to bond with him

But the feelings didn't come

The more I tried, the worse it got

I was not his mum

So much baggage he brought along

He didn't want me near

I would leave just like the rest

He reacted through his fear

The time came when I gave up

Within myself I quit

Then things began to slowly change

He opened bit by bit

This boy's now ten, we struggle on

I want to show I care

Some days for me, it's all too hard

My love is just not there

I have to say, things have changed

We've actually worked through heaps

Although at times it doesn't show

There's a soft heart underneath

His behaviour could be normal stuff

In truth, I don't know

Can I gage what he'll be like?

As an adult, what will show?

His lies really break my heart

He will blame or find excuse

He sulks when things don't go his way

I sometimes wonder what's the use

With me he'll argue, sulk or stare

It drains the life from me

I feel his hatred but later on

His love is plain to see

I don't understand this complex boy

He changes with the days

I wish I had him from his birth

To understand his ways

I guess I need to accept and love

Not change this growing boy

Interfering with God's job

I may, His work, destroy

Stress, it takes its toll on me

I need to sit and rest

If I let the Lord have His way

I'll see him at his best

We go over the same ground everyday

My words, he doesn't heed

i repeat myself constantly

I've done everything but plead

A vicious cycle of negativity

Is what this boy's caught in

Frustration is a daily thing

A style where no one wins

To praise him is so hard to do

I hardly want to try

He never seems to do what's right

But this is just a lie

His brother, he will taunt and shame

If others are around

Once with friends he runs about

Until trouble can be found

His schoolwork, he cannot see

Just why it should be done

We fight with this everyday

It's not what I'd call fun

He can do it if he wants

He knows as well as I

He loves it when his marks are good

But doesn't want to try

He's different with his dad around

He'll do just what he's told

I don't know why it is that way

He has some kind of hold

We'd rather think he's always wrong

It's easier that way

Not taking any accountability

Nice things, we didn't say

This boy is special, from God he's sent

God knows, he's had it hard

To protect himself, his only way

Is to keep his guard

Nothing changes overnight

Of this we can be sure

It's through our pain we grow and heal

With God there's so much more

It's hard while in there, God knows that

But with Him there's always hope

I'll take it daily as it comes

And pray to God we'll cope

February 1997

@REDLINEZ750

Thank you for caring! 💜 @AltZing-Connect . That is so nice of you to offer a check-in!!

Did any of them need a trigger warning? Could you please put them up for me if you think it needs it.

All these poems were written over twenty years ago! They should have the dates that they were written on the bottom of the poems. I live a peaceful life these days, AltZing-Connect. After over 25 years of therapy, I would hope so! 🙂

Can you tell me which one seemed current and I'll make it more known it was in the past?

Of course it's okay @AltZing-Connect It is appreciated!! Nice to meet you too! 💜

For three years my son and I ate at a local Soupie as I couldn't afford rent and food when all the other bills were paid. We lived in a three-man tent for a while (he was two, so saw it as an adventure), then moved into a house. I chose to live in a safe place (privately) and eat at the Soupie every night instead of living in a dangerous area (Dept of Housing) and be able to afford food. I believe I made the best decision. 💜

The Soupie

Merriwa means a good place

It's known by other names

The 'soupie' it is often called

To us it's all the same

It's open every day, you know

As well as every night

A place that offers more than food

It's great when money's tight

Its volunteers keep it going

They work as if they're paid

They're always there to lend a hand

Our meal by them is made

Mealtimes are hardly boring

They come from all around

Many interesting people

Can from there be found

The heart of it is Jesus Christ

You can meet Him there

It's where the rubber meets the road

A place to show you care

They have a service Sunday morn

It's casual and small

Nothing fancy, no grandeur

God's warmth shines there to all

The soupie is a special place

You, yourself can be

To sit alone or be with friends

While you're having tea

No need to act or prove yourself

You're accepted as you are

Black or white, bent or straight

Whether you come by foot or car

There are rules you have to follow

Figjting will find you out

If you do, they'll call the cops

Of this there is no doubt

Don't arrive with expectations

What will be will be

Whether once or everyday

When you come you'll see

Merriwa; a good place

I wonder if you know

Opinions differ but one thing's sure

It's unique and we are too

December 1995

Trying to work through my marriage as a Christian. I was looking at pride verses humility because I knew God's way. My ex-husband was abusive in many ways, but I wouldn't back down either at the beginning. I couldn't keep my mouth shut against perceived injustice!

Sorry

A little word so hard to say

Trouble getting it out

Is it a sign of weakness?

You'd rather sulk and pout

Silent words left unsaid

Bring trouble, create those walls

A heart that hardened won't feel pain

Around them lives will fall

Learn the word and learn to say it

It can only help and heal

If someone hurts, humble yourself

Think of how they feel

This dreaded word of the world

Stunts our pride too much

We cannot let our faults show through

The pride, God cannot touch

We blame the other, it's easy that way

To say it is their fault

We're not obliged, you won't back down

So fire a verbal assault

No matter how much pain we feel

Or how the other hurts

You cannot seem to say "I'm sorry"

With destruction you'd rather flirt

Pride doesn't build on anything solid

It's a counterfeit of the heart

We think it protects when in fact it hardens

And foundations fall apart

Our pride or the humility from God

Whatever we choose will grow

The battle is on between spirit and flesh

I believe so I know

We fight for control, no room for God

He lets us go our way

We think we're better off like this

Conflict night and day

What's important here and now?

Your standing or God's way?

Your decision is already made

By what you do and say

Best beware, kids are watching

They learn by what we do

If pride controls, they will follow

Their hearts will harden too

December 1995

I feel blessed to have spent my younger years in a small country town, although there was very little money and six children! My toys fitted in a shoe box (paper dolls) at the end of my bed, and I shared a room with my three older brothers. I had a great relationship with my father but not so much with my mother. 💚

Growing up Aussi Style

My dad's my mate; he's taught me lots

Beginning from my birth

He worked hard shining floors

as he paced back and forth

Oh, my mum; she had it good

She stayed at home and played

She liked to play mummies a lot

because she played it everyday

She cooked and cleaned and mucked around

While my dad; he went to work

He'd give her lots of money too

But she wouldn't share... jerk!

Growing up was hard you know

With my mum lurking round

We couldn't burp or let one rip

Oh man, she'd get real wound

My dad would laugh or crack a joke

Then see mum's evil look

Our eyes would lower and look around

We'd laugh behind our books

Oh yeah, we'd get sent to bed

But it was all worth the stir

My dad: he'd come and sneak us treats

No matter where we were

I hated school, just like my dad

Mum sent me everyday

I'd pretend I was sick and stay in bed

But she'd send me anyway

My mum would say you shouldn't lie

She'd get upset and yell

But my dad would tell me I would be

A great actress: he could tell

When I was older and drank too much

My dad: he gave a lift

He warned me good. Steer clear of mum

In case she gets a whiff

My dad's my mate. My mum's a witch

It's always been that way

My dad didn't mind me going out

Ask mum, he'd just say

My mum, she'd ask questions; lots

It used to get me mad

My dad: he'd smile and roll his eyes

When caught, he'd suffer bad

Now I've left and big myself

I often wonder how

She lived with him, the kid he was

Though we laugh about it now

It was good to grow where I did

With the feral cat and cow

Mum thinks the kids have grown and gone

But the biggest is with her now

My family and the Aussie life

A funny kind of way

But I thank the Lord for what I had

Each and everyday

October 1997

This is a poem about the mundaneness of married life - my marriage with my son (5) and my husband's son (12 - state ward). 💜

Abundant Life

I wake each morn, my husband's up

Already another day

A kiss before he leaves for work

And then he's on his way

It's time to rise, I hear the kids

A minute to gather thoughts

I take a breath; they're up, let's go

In a storm I'm caught

Over breakfast a look will spart

A nasty word or two

I try to keep them both apart

While chores that have to do

A coffee; I sit and listen to them

They play while they get dressed

I interject to move them on

Their rooms are now a mess

Help with spelling, one now sulks

The others lost in space

My patience now is wearing thin

A new day is what I face

Their bus is coming, the pace is set

It peaks towards the door

At last, the bus is on its way

And silence is once more

Another coffee, I look around

What to do today

Is it seen as if I work?

Who cares if I'm okay?

The washing calls, it's time to start

Up and down, I go

In between I'm cleaning up

Though it doesn't seem to show

Washing up, the bath, the beds

Now I sit to eat

A few more hours the kids return

I'm already feeling beat

My husband's home, work is hard

A shower before he rests

His day is over, the kids are home

The kids are not their best

Time for them, they have their say

Lunches to prepare

Dinners on, homework help

I try to show I care

Exhausted now, bath and bed

Where has my day gone?

Broken sleep, I can't believe

That now it's early morn

I wake again, my husband's up

Already another day

A kiss before he goes to work

And then he's on his way!

1995

I did a woman's recovery group at my local church many, many years ago and this poem came from that experience

A Wounded Heart

A wounded heart, I look ahead

My expectations clear

A few struggles I'm bound to have

But nothing there to fear

I've done some healing and I'm okay

It's behind me in the past

I'm feeling good and think I'm fine

When we began to start

The second week there is a change

Something new begins

Anxiety and fear start to grow

A churning wipes my grin

Facing the battle opens more

The truth I realise now

Is covered to deceive myself

I don't know why or how

Could my family be a part?

Did anyone really care?

Rage is now on the loose

Imperfections hard to bear

Shame: my failings can't be seen

I will justify or hide

God's stripping protective layers

Of contempt, deceit and lies

Contempt: I will never hurt again

Control will take its place

To face the needs, I have within

Requires something they call grace

I want your acceptance and your love

But I doubt you'll get through

So much garbage covers me

I'll hurt you if you do

Powerless: I can't live with that

Control, my hardened shell

Not good enough. I will reject

But demand from you as well

Ambivalence is a confusing thought

A mission to be liked

But hurt and rage lurk within

And causes me to fight

Betrayal, yes, I know it well

To trust means pain for me

Protection is a mighty block

I distance all I see

My style of relating is all so clear

Dysfunction is my life

Layers of hardness peeling back

Under the surgeon's kn***

Repentance: give control to God

It's just so hard to do

To be alive and feel and care

Means starting something new

Bold Love: I thought my healings done

But see it's just the start

I'm open now for God to heal

This broken, wounded heart

April 1997

I have felt alone since I was thirteen years old. (after abuse). Whether in a crowd or not, I felt the loneliness of not having someone who could understand me. I had just started therapy with a caring and compassionate therapist and responded to that in the only way I knew how. It felt like 'love' because it was intimate and he was caring to me - that was all it took. I became obsessed with him and even stalked him at one stage. I would dream about having someone who could connect emotionally with me, like him, for the next ten years. We worked through it as how could I be in love with someone I know very little about. I tend to bond with an emotional connection.

Loneliness

Sitting up town, drinking a coffee

I look around and see their joy

The laughter in their eyes trouble me

I feel so alone

My heart aches with loneliness

I don't want anything said

I just want to look in your eyes

Just look and see your love

To lay my head against you

To feel your arms surround me

No, nothing needs to be said

Words are risky

But your eyes, they tell me more

Compassionate eyes, I see inside

I close my eyes and feel your love wash over me

I open my eyes and loneliness surrounds me instead

A world of people but no one's there

Eyes are focused but don't connect

I pretend and no one knows

The secret pain I hold within

I walk alone; I always have

Like a cold ocean thrashing about endlessly

Or the desert ground, barren of life

I live there with nowhere safe to go

The winter night that holds the sleep

I sit by the window and stare

Nothing but my breathing

Alone, my companion of life

The world busies itself to a manic state

No one sees the loneliness

I sit alone and tears run down my face

Bitter-sweet tears of aloneness

I lay in the dark where aloneness lives

And I listen... for what?

I look at the empty space beside me

And it wells inside my heart

Watching the sunrise alone

Looking at life from a distance

Loneliness crushes my very soul

Deep within are ashes of the dead

Red dust blowing over animal bones

A drought in an empty shell

Silence says it all

Silence says it well

A smile on a painted face

Falling leaves in Autumn

The days go on forever

A never-ending dream

Loneliness calls my name

Beckons me to come

I respond with tears

That cries within... alone!

April 2000

@REDLINEZ750