A Christmas I Remember
(Note to my fellow travelers: I wrote this on 30-Nov-21 as I was “looking forward” to Christmas.) Christmastime:A time of peace, love, joy,anticipation, hope, giving,goodwill towards all. I remember Christmas:I was five or six years old.We arrived at a friend’s...
Missed Chances And Mistakes
Missed Chances and Mistakes. Do we “deserve” a second chance—or a third one, or a fourth? Are there “do-overs” in life? In 12-Step recovery, we have them, every single day. No matter what we’ve done—or failed to do—if we are in these rooms or on these calls, we are...
The Front Lines
Entering the war zoneNever prepared for battleLove is a battlefield Just a youngster in your careLost on the front linesLove is a battlefield Facing the enemy I love unconditionallyWhy do you hurt me so bad?Ill prepared and searching for shelter and safetyWhy do you...
I am a Piano
Photo and poem by Julie N.
Guilty No More
Original photograph by Julie N.
Our Father
This poem contains content that some may find offensive. I don’t want to be your hero. I was a child.I took a dozen lashes.Then stood up and said, “Fuck you.” I don’t want to be your hero. A heavy wet blanket of pain was draped over this boy’s body.From the outside he...
Questions Utiles à Mon Rétablissement
Faux-SelfQuand j’ai découvert la notion de faux-self, j’ai immédiatement pensé à ce clown qu’une personne de ma famille avait dessiné étant enfant. Maintenant je m’exerce, surtout quand mes idées sont embrouillées, à me poser ces toi questions : « Qu’est-ce que je...
Don’t Talk. Don’t Feel.
I feel it and I am going to talk about it. Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn - “Bed Stuy” Bed Stuy is beating up your mother and asking you, “What are you going to do about it, punk?” Bed Stuy is looking outside onto the street and in between patches of icy, crunching...
I Don’t Remember
Trigger warning. This poem contains a traumatic event. I don’t rememberthe first three years of my life.But my gut remembers.My heart knows the truth. Frozen terror within.Terrified of daddy-Monster,the volcano in my home.I must hide from him, but I can’t. One simple...
Petty Retaliation
I was fourteenand sick of daddy-Monster’s violence.I did not know who I was.I had heard too many lies. Too many beatings.Too many slaps across the face.Too many unpredictable eruptions.Too much terror. Too much ridicule.Too many disparaging comments.Too many hostile...