Posted in Depression, Mental Health, mindlovemiserysmenagerie, poetry, Reflections

free at last (free verse)

Tethered

– Oleg Oprisco
This photo challenge was posted at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie to inspire a writing of any genre…this was my attempt.

Leave me alone!
she shouted aloud
but her weak screams
could barely be heard.

it all started last year
when claiming to be
a new born vegan
her excuse not to hear
is that all you’re eating?!

First mother haggled
offering to drive her
to her favourite gym
if just for one meal
it seemed to work,
or so Mom thought
not noticing her
running to the loo

Leave me alone!
she’d shout aloud
but her weak screams
could barely be heard.

Then even at school
became a new problem
friends were no fool
noticing her body shrink
just wasting away
before their own eyes

They would then nag
offer their snack
others would rag
make her feel wacked
staring, eye rolling
she felt they were controlling
meddling in her affairs
giving her evil stares.

Leave me alone!
she shouted aloud
but her weak screams
could barely be heard.

in time there were no friends
only her boyfriend remained
pleading with her
worrying about her

until one day
an ultimatum
he had to say
either get help
or I can’t stay

Leave me alone!
she shouted aloud
but her weak screams
could barely be heard.

she turned to self-harm
to ease her pain
self-injury
her new found friend

she wrapped her wrists
to hide her scars
except when alone
she’d go for long walks
out into the woods
unraveling
long bindings
stretched to forever

she loved these walks
alone and free
just she and nature
it heard her pain
did not have to strain
when she would say

Leave me alone!
in her weak screams
the birds would chirp
the hare would dance
the doe would prance
her new found friends

free at last
she never returned
no longer an outcast
became one with nature
free at last

© Cheryl-Lynn 2016

Posted in Bullying, Compassion, mindlovemiserysmenagerie, narrative

the gifted child

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.files.wordpress.com/2015/07/week-72.pngAt Mindlovemiserysmenagerie Wordle, we are told to use at least 10 of the above words to create a story or poem (this is a tough one!)The words can appear in an alternate form; we are to use the words in any order that we like. I took a chance and tried them in the same order 1. Bastard 2. Glimpse 3. Rubble 4. Trickle 5. Bonfires 6. Wallow 7. Supplicant (a petitioner, a beggar, a pupil) 8. Tenacious (holding fast) 9. Pique (to affect with sharp irritation and resentment, especially by some wound to pride) 10. Bulge 11. Circumspect (cautious, prudent) 12. Liminal (relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process, occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.)  I have also written this for the Photo Challenge at Mindlovemiserysmenagerie

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© Nekneeraj

“GrandMaman, what’s a bastard?”

Grandmaman’s eyes widened, she sighed and looked up to the sky for a moment as she was weeding her vegetable garden, and crossed herself.

“Hum, bien tu sais, “bastard” has different meanings for animals and for humans.”

“Huh? Je ne comprends pas, Grandmaman. Les `tit gars à la garderie m’appellent un Baltard. ”

“Mais, why do the children say this to you, mon petit? ” GrandMaman could not help but notice a glimpse of sadness mixed with confusion on her grandson’s face.

“Jean Noël said his mother said I was. So what is it? They had a weird look on their faces like I was a bad person.”

GrandMaman stood up and took her rake to remove the rubble along the riverbank, stealing some time to shake the anger that had trickled inside her soul. She noticed tiny branches in the debris and gathered it together thinking this would make a nice little bonfire for tonight. Yes, she thought, this would be a nice way to end the evening rather than wallow in self-pity for the ignorant bullying her grandson was exposed to. Her grandson looked at her in supplication, half expecting bad news but hoping for the opposite.

“Mon cher petit, sometimes children overhear their parents gossip. Gossiping is talking about this and that and sometimes untrue stories about people.”

“But why would grownups tell untrue stories about me, Grandmaman?”

“Tu sais mon amour, the world is made up of many kinds of people. When a miracle happens some people do not want to believe it. Some are even jealous. Ils aiment piquer le monde autour d’eux. Their tongues become sharp and resentful. ”

Poor little guy just looked more confused at his grandmother’s explanation. His head hung in quiet desolation.

“Écoute mon enfant, some use this word to hurt people thinking we do not know the true root of the word. It is like using the name of the Lord in vain. They use something beautiful and in their tenacious vindictiveness, they turn it into something ugly.”

He sighed loudly and shouted, “BUT WHAT DOES BASTARD MEAN!!!”

“It means “love child” mon amour. You are the product of pure and innocent love and you are a blessed miracle in your maman’s life as well as mine, mon trésor. Tu comprends, maintenant?”

The little guy’s eyes bulged as he could not believe what his grandmother was telling him. He kept thinking this over and thought of stories GrandMaman told him gifted children and how many were circumspect around them. He kept thinking of stories of Jesus of Nazereth and how he was so innocent of his specialness yet was threatened by some.

“So children’s parents are jealous because I am a love child, GrandMaman? What does that make me then?”

“It makes you the most unique and loving miracle, mon amour, and must not ever let ignorant or jealous people put you down. They do not know what they are doing and know not what they say. Keep love in your heart, mon amour. Now help me weed this garden, so we can get supper ready and a nice feu de camp later with des guimauves. Allez…allez…”

© Cheryl-Lynn 2015/08/03