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If you are a survivor, please be careful in reading the information compiled here. It is impossible to give information on ritual abuse, and about people's opinions about ritual abuse, in a way that is not upsetting and/or triggering. Only you know how much is wise to read, and how much information you can absorb at one time.

Poetry by Tania

The Parts of Me

Part of me is gravel,
sharp and painful to tread upon.

Replete,
with the memory as an etching upon my soul.

Enraged...Wrathful....wishing to claw at
the transgressors whose ungodliness
brought forth the fracture of
my psyche.

Part of me is ocean,
deep and full of wonderment.

A muse,
finding beauty amongst the many facets of creation.
Peering deeply beyond the surface of the seemingly impenetrable water
discovering the plethora of knowledge and treasure
beneath.

Part of me is mute,
Dulcet as a mouse in the dark of the night.

Quiet,
without the ability to utter the very
secrets that brought about the birth
of the terror that dwells in my heart.

Part of me is anguished,
Possessing enough pain to bring forth a lake of tears.

Agonized,
because of loss and disappointment.
Grieving for the lost childhood and the lost ability to obtain
the self-reliance needed for survival.

All of me is wounded,
Bleeding within from unhealed harms inflicted long ago.

Fractured,
and unsure of the emotion that will greet us each day
or.......

each moment.

In Memorandum of You

(©  10/19/93)

This is my my memorandum to you little boy,
I've remembered your face so well...
How they made me watch and used you to show me what would
happen if I'd tell...

I'm so sorry for the pain you endured,
at the sick hands of those beasts.
How they cut you and they stabbed you...
and caused your little life to cease.

How I wish I could have stopped it all,
and made the bad people go away..
I was small then just like you were...
Just a little longer and GOD will make them pay.

When the hour comes and you hear his voice,
and step out of your shallow grave...
I hope to be there,
that's my own choice...
I have a wish that I have made...
To see you smile and realize that they lied to us,
you see,
Your pain was never GOD's will....
Their evil wasn't meant to be.

Secrets

A poem to my mother who denies the truth

Is your plan to take all of them with you
and leave us in this heart ache and pain?

Is your need to keep all of them hidden
because you think its on you we'll place blame?

Are the scenes you keep locked far away
just too evil that terror has gripped you?

Does it wrap its cold hands 'round your throat and
demand that the truth of the past will not leave you?

Do you lie awake at night and stare out of your window
and hope I'll find more on my own?

Or do you sleep soundly knowing that as long as
you fight I can't demand for the truth to be known?

As time passes by and you swear it's a lie--
do you think I'll forget or move on?

For I can't---don't you see? For the secrets help me
in the healing that I need to be strong.

 

 

 

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