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When I was 2 years old, my dad's mother would shout at me to "Stop
it Stop it " as I lay on my back rolling my head from side to side
over and over again. She shouted and I stopped it, but as soon as
she left the room, I'd start doing it all over again. Years later,
I learned that particular behavior was a form of self comfort. Left
on my own from early childhood I had no choice but to live in
constant fear and fight it, face unbearable loss and bear it, I had
become the unwilling target of vicious child abuse and endured it
as best I was able until I could escape it and painstakingly find
and return to my biological family. That is what my poems are
about, survival, strength, triumph, joy, grief, and redemption.
Many years later, I still find myself lying on my back, turning my
head from side to side, waiting for my grandmother to shout at me
to stop it. She might have added," You should have outgrown that by
now "
I am not a poet in the traditional sense. I rarely have a rhyme, I
don't care about stanzas or acceptable academic style. I am telling
stories in short form, in thought patterns that stop. and start.
Periods and commas fall where they will, and I let them. I have
found it the best way to write about my subject matter without
losing my own mind or the reader's. My poems will give but brief
glimpses into detailed, often harsh subject matters, such as severe
child abuse by adoptive parents, the lost, the unfortunate, the
homeless. Others tell about the joyful reunion with biological
family, or a crooked Christmas tree, or people I have known, places
I have been, and those who have inspired me.
The author's 2nd work. A poetical account of self-salvation from
the continuing snapshots of child abuse by adoptive parents. Poems
about the lost, loss, depression, hoarders, a beloved childhood
dog, and the continuing account of life with her biological family
and others.
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