The Dark Walk

In darkness we walk; we are survivors of the night. The dark raven still flies; we fear no fright. In suffering we have been tried; blood and fierceness in our eyes. Our seasons of weeping have strengthened us; hard resolve is in our cries. Let now all in our congregation in unison rise. Let the earth’s soil remember the tears of our torment; let the four walls echo the whispers of our days and nights of agony. We have been made strong in our endless affliction; we present the dreadful scars of trauma, and the world is aghast. We have been rejected and unloved even by our own fathers; our anguish and misery is the pain of our mothers. We live in darkness like vampires; our hands outstretched longing for the sunshine, but seemingly rejected by the light. The dilation in our eyes tell the tale of our secluded existence. We are but mortals with hearts full of love and pain. Our forecast are grey skies and eternal rain. We swear now an eternal oath, that the traumas of our childhood eternally sleep and shall never rise again.

The Final Scene

Cold winds pierce through her black veil. She stands there alone; all the other faces of sorrow have departed. She stands there and looks down upon the remnants of him, as the cold and howling winds blow against her. She has not cried. She has not shown any emotion. Her face is solemn. The winds continue to howl as her black dress and veil are pressed against her from one side from the violence of the winds. The grey skies open and cold rain is released. Still, she stands there completely still. Her eyes are fixated on him as she continues to stare. She does not morn for him, for he was the cause of her pain and suffering. She had endured the torture for over thirty years. The beatings and the abuse; the endless suffering; the wailing. All he has left her is torturous memories and a dark void. She doesn’t shed tears because his death is her life. She is numb from the many years she has endured. The sorrow in her eyes is for herself, because of all the wasted years of unhappiness and heartache. The tears of her soul are for the stillborn child she conceived in agony; the wounds and scars of her abuse visible for all to see, as she cried out in pain. He had blamed her for the loss of the child and had become even more violent and abusive, even as she lied listless in bed for months. He hit her violently time and time again, as she lie there numb and in silent tears. The pain of losing her child was a pain she could not fathom and had never felt before. Tears streamed down her face, as she prayed to the heavens day after day. Now, as he lie in a wooden box, no life in him, she is emotionless. The winds pick up in speed and the howling is louder; it is cold and the rain is coming down in torrents. She is unmoved. She removes her veil and black satin gloves and throws them onto the top of the casket, in an act of finality. She takes a rose and places it next to her heart for the child she had lost. Without looking back, she walks away as she empties herself of his memory.

Cries of the Sufferers

As immeasurable pain touches my soul I cry out from the dark and lonely abyss. My thoughts are plagued with grief as sorrow takes hold and paralyzes my will. I have sought peace only to find war; I have sought love only to find hate; I have sought sunshine only to find gray skies and thunderous rain. In cold desolation I lie still as the freezing winds of fear and desperation take my warmth from me. Season by season I grow weaker as I contend with the harsh realities of my wretched existence. I awake to melancholy and go to sleep in persistent anxiety. Who will hear the cries of the sufferers? Pain is a deep and festering wound that leads to infection and sepsis of the soul. It eats away at happiness and contentment slowly and methodically until there is nothing left. The cries and wailing of the sufferers echo throughout, as a sad song is played. Crows gather on a ledge and stare as they bear witness to the mire. The sufferers stumble around in zombie like state as they try to find their way. The road to happiness and freedom seems to allude them, but they walk nonetheless. Their plight would bring tears even to the strongest and most powerful of men. To gaze upon them, is to gaze upon perpetual suffering. To look into their red and weary eyes, is to look into their souls. Souls of deep pain and sorrow. The story of their once joyful lives are now haunting memories of the past. Still, there is a light of hope every time someone stops and listens to their story while giving words of comfort and love.

Silent Suffering

Silent suffering
Incessant pain,
undiagnosed trauma
And constant rain

In your darkest hour
Remember your name,
Search for strength
You are not to blame

Who can know your sorrow?
Who can know your plight?
Who can measure your resolve?
They haven’t lived your life

Years have passed
And you have endured,
Still the road is hard
Still you long for more

Peace of mind
Has been a dream,
Although you smile
It is not as it seems

Behind the eyes
Is where it stays
In silent suffering,
You live day by day.

The Night

In darkness it has found me;
In deep waters it seeks to drown me;
It hides from the light
But comes back at night

To rob me of my sleep;
In the early morning I weep;
There is no one there to hear
My misery and my fear

In my sad and darkest hours,
Alone my afflictions I bear.
A heavy cross to carry;
I seek eternal life

I cry out to the Lord,
But suffering is my plight.
My every waking hour,
Is filled with suffering and pain

A horrid creature stalks me;
Insomnia is its name.

The Will of My Vengeance

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A black ant crawls around in search of sustenance. I live in perpetual darkness. I am plagued by snares and pestilence. I have been abandoned by all who have claimed to love me. Family means nothing now; friends have become hated enemies. The world has taken a front row seat to my misery; they drink their wine and sample hors d’oeuvres with a scowl on their faces. As I make my entrance on stage, they laugh and jeer with foul breath and discolored teeth. I am mocked mercilessly by the horde of disgusting and worthless scum.

In the midst of their mockeries and outbursts, I sit and keep my silence. The inner workings of my mind record their atrocities. I detail and finalize the ways of their destruction. They parade me around in their congregation as they put my suffering on display. Loud cheers are heard as they exploit my vulnerability. They are jubilant and euphoric in their wickedness and immorality. They feed on my misery like parasites. The gluttonous filth fill their bellies and come back for more.

I have nothing left to give. I cry out as anger overtakes me. They fall silent and stare … I curse them all to hell. I will survive; I will survive it all. I will uproot them as a violent tornado uproots trees. I will swarm them like aggressive African bees swarm their prey. I will upset them. I will make them pay. I will destroy them. I will upset their very spirits and souls with curses and vile rhetoric. I will make it difficult for them to sleep. I will have my revenge.

The Shadows (Her Silent Suffering)

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Wailing voices. Voices that cry out with anguish but are heard by few. kept in the dark in quiet suffering, where there is a seemingly bottomless pit or black hole. A place where time is suspended and reality is turned on its head. Where sorrows are increased, and heavy burdens wear on even the strongest of men. Tears have been shed here; a vast ocean of tears abound. In the distance if you look closely, a woman can be seen sobbing in that dark place underneath the shadows. Her candle is lit, but dim. She turns away quickly to hide her face. She has been there many years, trapped in misery, and in the clutches of loneliness and self-doubt. In her hiding, she wants to be seen. In her quiet sobbing, she wants to be heard.