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by Margaret Rose

Whatever age she is, when a girl experiences an act of abuse, something almost always remains inside her, throwing her world into disarray. Told from the perspective of the girl within, the poem captures the survivor’s struggle with feelings of displacement - reclaiming bodily integrity and peace of mind, as well as reconciling the relationship with the self.

This poem was written for the POWA (People Opposing Woman Abuse) Woman’s Writing Competition.  It is purely fiction, based on competition criteria given, and research done on victims of abuse.


Alone in the bedroom I hear footsteps again,
The familiar sound brings a memory of pain.
My heart is pounding at the creak of the door,
I still see the little girl curled up on the floor.
Young and abused, and emotionally confused,
No one believed, I was disciplined and accused.
My body is aching and uncontrollably shaking,
A little girl’s fears now bring womanhood tears.
I am plagued by the murmurs of the girl in me,
Struggling to let go, to be healed and set free.

Perhaps they were right and I did lie from fright,
A girl that is bad must be punished by her dad.
I tried hard to be good but I just never understood,
All I needed was rest for dad knew what was best.
I loathed all the gifts that I received from my dad,
Why was I so mad when I should have been glad?
I am no longer a child but I still feel the pain,
My head is in turmoil as I struggle to remain sane.
I am plagued by the murmurs of the girl in me,
Struggling to let go, to be healed and set free.

The breath-taking beauty of the vase on the shelf,
Stands empty and soiled, a reflection of myself.
Despite all my efforts to be flawlessly groomed,
I feel inwardly tarnished and eternally doomed.
Violated and exposed, fearing everyone knows,
As past memories arouse, my insecurity grows.
I try to forget but then each time he comes near,
The awakened experience rekindles the fear!
I am plagued by the murmurs of the girl in me,
Struggling to let go, to be healed and set free.

Each child is a blessing from our Father above,
A precious gift for parents to care for and love.
When this role is abused and a child lives in strife,
Is there really true justice for the broken child’s life?
When the child is an adult, scarred and in despair,
Has justice been done and does the law even care?
Consumed with frustration, resentment and grief,
Yearning for contentment and a means of relief.
I am plagued by the murmurs of the girl in me,
Struggling to let go, to be healed and set free.

The tormenting voices keep feeding me lies,
Accusations of guilt bring tears to my eyes.
An internal battle I am determined to defeat,
I will continue to fight until the murmurs retreat.
With worth and integrity I will stand up tall,
I will have inner beauty and no tarnish at all!
The bond of guilt and impurity will be broken,
I will forget the pain from words ever spoken.
With time I will let go and experience release,
All the plaguing murmurs of the girl will cease.

This poem was written to capture an incident that took place while the family were at a holiday resort. A poem dedicated to my Sister:


It started with groans and then progressed into screams,
The roof started shaking as bolts fell from the beams!
There was clearly a problem, how desperate she seemed,
A life threatening problem, by the way that she screamed!

The people came running from all directions to see,
Everyone concerned, how traumatized she must be.
The door was still closed and there was no visible clue,
It was hard to imagine what could be wrong in the loo?

We looked over the wall, and there she stood tall,
Standing on the seat with her pants still at her feet!
With a fear stricken face she pointed to the floor,
But it moved slowly up and was clinging to the door!

It had eight hairy legs and it was the size of a hand,
Its two protruding eyes moved around as it scanned!
It was hairy, it was scary and it looked really mean,
It was the biggest of all spiders that we had ever seen!


Now in another world, feeling totally forlorn,
A change in identity, away from the norm.
The division of society put groups in a place,
Single parents now form a part of that space.

A single parent is thrown into deep seas,
Life seems a storm and seldom a breeze.
Trying to survive and making ends meet,
Faced with a struggle to stand on two feet.

A heart hidden secret kept deeply concealed,
It’s a parent’s emotion that is seldom revealed.
The warmth of another giving love to each other,
An instinctive desire that all humans require.

Love is the rudder that steers this boat,
The children are the reason it stays afloat.
Sailing the seas and embracing the days,
When clear blue skies reveal the sun’s rays


Teaching your child how to drive is a mission,
For whatever you say they don’t seem to listen!
They know how to drive even before you begin,
Despite their mistakes they still know everything!

They put the gear in first but the car goes in reverse,
You tell them to drive slow but all they hear is go!
An absolute mistake is to introduce the brake,
They thrash it to the floor while you cling to the door!

One thing they have decided is a definite need,
All corners must be turned at incredible speed!
But this is not so neat if you do not have the beat,
Hip hop and Rock send vibrations to your seat!

Now as they grow older they get even bolder,
All cars on the road are driving in slow mode!
There’s just no one alive who knows how to drive.
Only they have credentials and are the professionals!


How difficult accepting the reality of truth,
A trail left behind leaves memories of youth.
Years have passed by represented by age,
The elderly struggling to deal with this stage.

The book of life’s chapters begin to unfold,
Their past is relived as the stories are retold.
Memories recalled bring a heartfelt sigh,
The joys and sorrows bring a tear to the eye.

Why is it so difficult turning over the page?
To let go of the past and accept the old age.
What makes the aged long for their youth?
They live in denial and shy away from the truth.

It’s the feeling of rejection and of being alone,
Of life’s final chapter and fear of the unknown.
But growing old is a gift from our Father above,
The aged are precious and wrapped in His love!

This poem was written for a contest, based on the title given.

              DANCING WITH GOD

A canvas portrays a picture painted to perfection,
Illuminated golden paths exhibit each reflection,
Mint green pastures adorned by a colourful display.
The splendor of Heaven takes my breath away!

Overwhelmed with joy and astounding peace,
There’s no pain or tears but complete release
In harmonious worship the angels rejoice,
All bow down at the sound of God’s voice

It is really me, I can still see, hear and feel,
I am dancing with God and Heaven is so real!
Absorbed in His love and His emanating light,
All hail to the King what a glorious sight!

I am dancing with God my heart beats a melody,
The sweet sound of His voice stirs a rhythm in me
The angels are singing as the orchestra plays,
Holy is the Lord I am dancing with praise!

Multi-coloured cities with walls of golden glass
Trees with healing fruit embellish the crisp grass
Exquisite beauty extraordinary to conceive,
The purpose of my visit is for others to believe

I must return to earth and acclaim God’s name,
It is not yet in His will for me now to remain
Dancing with God is a breathtaking pleasure,
A divine experience I will always treasure


The journey of life passes through seasons,
Changes take place for various reasons.
Like an open book the chapters unfold,
Seasons of memories and stories untold.

Memories of happiness bring joy to your life,
Others are painful and bring a life of strife.
You seem alone and the world appears cold,
Your life is in turmoil and is threatening to fold.

These are just seasons they come and they go,
A book of life’s chapters of the high and the low.
Feelings of nostalgia bring a tear to the eye,
An emotional recording of life passed by.

But seasons bring changes of a positive kind,
Restoring the body and renewing the mind.
At these times our true strength is discovered,
Our faith is restored and self-worth is recovered.