November 3, 2009
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Their skin is alabaster stone.
At a time when my life was a very dark place, I wrote this. The original form was about a page in MS Word in a short story form with paragraphs. I didn’t realize at the time that the story was completely about me. I edited it a couple of times.
I accidently gave it to my creative writing teacher in college when I handed in another assignment, and she wrote some comments and notes on how I could improve the piece. One of the things she told me that in an epic poem format, it would have more impact on the reader. I took her notes and advice and improved it. She was completely right about turning into a poem.
No longer do I live in this darkness. I have finally been able to start leaving my past in the past, taking the life lessons it’s taught me, and leaving the rest behind. It all still saddens me sometimes, but it no longer controls me every day. I have done this without professional help. Maybe I should still talk to a therapist, but for now I think I’m okay.
If you read closely and in between the lines, I think you can figure out what happened to me as a child.
—
Sadness and fear grow like a wild rose bush,
Thorns tearing into your flesh,
Vines twisting and turning,
Trying to find an escape.
Love shrinks,
A wilting bud on the cusp of death.The roses here are not red,
They are black.
There’s a little girl standing near the rose bush,
You can see her side,
But most of her face is hidden in shadows.She’s only about four or five years old,
Her hair is long and unkempt.
It’s light brown,
And goes to the middle of her back.
Do you see the wind snatch it and twirl it around?
And just behind her, there’s a party.People,
Laughing, drinking, whispering, dancing and flirting…
Paying her no mind.
They are wearing all white.
White shirts, white sport coats,
White dresses, skirts.White tents blow in the light breeze,
White table clothes billow slightly.
White chairs and white plates.
Crystal glasses sparkle white wine.Their skin is alabaster stone,
Pure.Your attention goes back to the little girl,
This poor creature.
You notice her clothes,
A black t-shirt, ripped and too small,
Can you see her ribs sticking out?A pair of blue jean shorts,
Where frays show where they were cut off.
Do you see her white stick legs?
You feel like taking her into your arms,
And protecting this young girl.
She needs to eat,
You want to give her the world.She was born of them,
But she’s not one of them.
Cast out,
Cast aside.Do you hear that thunder?
It’s so angry,
Angry at the injustice of her.
She’s been neglected and abused,
And the world is furious.You look at the sky and see dark black clouds.
It starts to rain tears,
And the party continues without a care.
When the tears fall on them,
You see that the tears are tears of blood.
The sky is bleeding for her.Their white clothing is stained,
With the blood of the sky,
And they don’t care.
Their laughter seems to grow louder,
Trying to rival the thunder that incessantly grows.
It starts to sound twisted and grotesque,
Disgust fills your mind as you watch them.There’s crimson blood on their white faces,
Tainted.You look back at the little girl now,
This mystery of a girl.
The bloody rain does not touch her.
She bends a rose off the bush,
And, fiercely clenched in her hand,
The thorns pierce her skin.Her innocence flows out with her rich, warm blood.
Somehow you know that this was a point,
A point of no return.
You know it’s true with every fiber of your being.
Her arm that holds the rose is at her waist,
The other hangs motionlessly at her side.Do you see her blood, running down her arm,
Onto her fist, and down onto the ground?
After staring at the rose for what feels like eternity,
her gaze turns toward you,
Her body still faced away.Are you locking eyes with her?
Her eyes are electric blue,
The bluest of eyes you will ever see.
They hold you, never letting you go.
Do you see the tears of blood,
Running down her pale face?Do you see the never-ending pain in her eyes?
She’s got bruises,
On her body and on her heart.
She’s been a victim,
But until now her innocence had been maintained.
In a moment,
It was shattered.This girl mesmerizes you,
You want to give her so much,
Your heart aches,
But she’s so unreachable.She’s so close to you,
Yet so very far away.Do you see her in your mind,
Standing next to the black rose bush?
You notice the party behind her,
It’s gotten even louder,
The laughter more garish,
And still,
No one but you notices her.Do you scream for her,
Telling her to put the rose down?
Even though you know it’s too late,
Do you try to run for her?But,
You notice that your feet are glued to the ground,
And for some reason unknown to you,
You cannot move toward her.Do you stretch out your hand to her?
Although you stand only feet from her,
You cannot reach her.
She’s so close,
Yet too far away.Do you yell at her,
Telling her to come to you?How can you yell over the wind rain and thunder?
Are you crying for her?
The black rose bush starts to crumble,
Turning to a pile of blood and ashes.
It’s fulfilled its purpose,
And ceases to exist.
Her rose remains perfect,
Black silk petals a flag of loss.No matter what you say,
She cannot hear you.
She just holds your eyes captive,
Never wavering, never letting you go.The laughter behind her has begun to mock you.
They know what you try to do and jeer you for it.
They point and stare at you,
But you don’t care.
You still try,
But still you cannot reach her.Are you still crying for her?
Comments (17)
This gave me chills. I can relate to a lot of it (I don’t know your specific situation, but I was abused as a child), but I never felt as if the world cared, let alone could be angry on my behalf.
Its good to hear that your happier now.
No child should go through that.
I really love your poetry it’s creative and I love it!:)
This is so powerful
It’s great that you’re happier now, but no child should have to go through that. This is some great poetry, though! Well done.
I say the same as a lot of commenters, no child deserves to go through such pain. But I am glad that you got through and are better now.
I really liked the poem. 
This poem was really perfectly written, from the beginning to the end.
“They know what you try to do and jeer you for it.”
Personally, I think that you should keep writing. A lot of people write mediocre poetry and I’ve read some of it and I have enough tact I hope, not to speak my mind about how tedious a lot of it really is. Your poetry, however, is very interesting, and, yes, it certainly is about child abuse and child neglect, but it has a lot more perspective to it than so much of the mediocre poetry that is around.
You totally had this thing well organized. It has over 30 stanzas. Some are long and some are short but they all work, and they work like that bad dream, almost like the sigh of relief when you turn into a landing airplane and land safe and sound on your mattress in your bed at home, instead of in prison or on the edge of a cliff.
My thing to do if I could do it, would be to write lyrics for heavy metal songs, that is what I’ve tried to do, but I’m not in a band. I have various pipe dreams. I wrote a song called “Cooked Vegetable Beatings” which is about my childhood, and another one called “Calling All Nerds”, which is partly about my childhood. I like a very sparse, Black Sabbath style of writing lyrics.
Dear Crystal,
First of all I want to thank you for dropping by my blog, leaving a comment, and recommending my latest entry.
This is quite a powerful piece. I’ve been writing poetry for over 35 years, and have dealt with abuse in quite a few of them, most recently in “The Cycle of Abuse” some pieces of which I posted on Xanga on October 5th.
Your teacher was very helpful in directing you to recompose your story as a poem, as it works very well in this idiom. You write very powerfully, and the imagery and metaphor are stark and haunting. I was mesmerized by reading, just as the reader is mesmerized by the little girl standing by the rose bush. The colors, red, black, white, scream to the reader. The image of the rose cutting into flesh is powerfully presented.
I could probably quibble with some of the presentation. I’ve been known to crit poetry because I used to run a popular poetry group on Yahoo a few years ago, but as I read, I had no need to quibble with any or the words or thier placement.
I can tell that this is quite personal, and you are working throught what abuse you have suffered, sans therapy, in a beautiful and hopeful way.
Because I always treat blog visits like visits to a place, and becuase I simply can’t make the time to read all the entries of all the bloggers I know, I read more than one entry when visiting, and I chose your entry below, even though you mentioned it was long. (I write some of the longest blog entries on Xanga, so I don’t mind reading something long if it’s worth it.)
The prose kept me hooked, to hear the end of the story, even though I know you just wrote it down as you were thinking about this relationship. I’m 56, and have had lots of relationships, and lots of missed opportunities, and one thing that always bothers me is when two people can seemingly be very close, but then drift apart for no apparent reason. Of course perhaps the reason, as you stated, is that you divulged your feelings to the guy and he suddenly felt uncomfotable. Still, it was a nice story, and I hope it gives you some wonderful positive memories of this person, even though you two have drifted apart.
I had a pleasant visit to you blog, and thanks again for dropping by.
Michael F. Nyiri, poet, philosopher, fool
Very moving. Very sad. Well done.
Very sad. But very well written. Sorry you had to go through that. Nobody should.
very nice story
@jupiter312 - I was abused too =[ I think that the world is angry when things like this happen, they just don't DO anything about it. Well, the average person doesn't. People just ignore it and pretend it doesn't happen. They are only outraged when a specific story hits the media.
@Cookstergirl88 - Yes, I agree, and thank you.
@sydbarrettrulesforever - Thanks =]
@godfatherofgreenbay - I agree. The first time I changed it from a short story to a poem, I was like wow! Because it was so different and more powerful.
@chelseanataliex - Thanks =]
@QueenOfOreos - Thank you. And thanks for suggesting its own post, I hadn’t thought about it =]
@forwhomthebelsentolls - Wow, thank you so much!
@baldmike2004 - Thank you =] Yes, it was definitely a missed opportunity. I have lots of great memories of him. Maybe we will re-connect someday.
@ItsWhatEyeKnow - Thank you.
@MarnieAyn - I agree, nobody should. But, we do. It makes us stronger later in life, if we can survive until we realize it.
@Paul_Partisan - Thanks =]
very sad, but beautiful, and well done. I loved it.
glad to know you’re doing better
Wow
I can be pretty dense when it comes to deep poetry like this so I have next to no idea about your childhood situation but from the looks of this poem I don’t think I want to know. So painful.
@hotpinkstarberry - Thank you =]
@Ampersands_Anonymous - It’s okay =] It’s about sexual child abuse.
@crazy2love - I’m sorry. I guess I’m not as dense as I thought. I had a feeling it was something along those lines. I’ll have to give it another read now.