Marilyn Friesen

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Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, March 17, 2016

Who Was the Victim

I’m finding it very hard to write this exact post, maybe it’s because I haven’t been completely reconciled with my past or something.

Okay, I know I am going to confuse some of you because earlier I leaped back into my eleventh year to bring out some Memory Files and this was after sharing what happened when I was a young teenager. Now I’m back into my teen years, got it?

Do you remember me telling you about being ‘kidnapped’ by a couple of uncles?

Well, here we are, a new life is before us. Now we are living in a proper home once again, one with running water, lights, and all that good stuff we were used to in this modern day and age. I assume Mom’s brothers and church family were instrumental in having that happen though it is a piece of the puzzle I never actually searched for.

We were given a warm welcome: I remember the girls my age, a couple of them which were my cousins, putting on a party which included presenting me with a homemade scrapbook where they had each added a page or two.  It was a very nice gesture.

But somehow, what lingers most warmly in my mind is going to school on that first day of grade ten. Just inside the glass doors of the big school were two girls waiting for me. They became my best friends.

  Okay, I guess I need to venture into what’s really hurting, can’t skirt it any longer.  Mom had gone home to her people but she wasn’t ‘one of them’ in spirit, if you catch the drift.

I’ve always shielded myself from this fact because it hurt too much. It was easier to say that Mom was depressed because of all the pain she had gone through, but the truth was I, we, were hurting and she wasn’t there for us. 

The silent disapproval I had already felt as a child remained, and I found her quite unapproachable.  Once, maybe a year or so after we got there, she shared her heart with me. It was a heady experience for a fifteen or sixteen year old, but I was too young to really help her. 

So what did I do? I turned to writing and finished my first novel while in my teens but later threw it out. I also wrote poetry that expressed my anguish and other moods. 

I still quote these lines from one of the poems from time to time: ‘Chains of darkness flung around me binding me with fear’, hmm, the rest of the words are escaping me. What were they? I wrote about the ‘echoes from the past’ meaning the sexual abuse that had such a damaging effect on my ego.

Teenage years can be tumultuous even for those from a stable home, and mine wasn’t easy. I had such extreme mood swings that on one occasion I took way too many aspirin in a desperate attempt to end it all. Did I have side effects? Not really. Did Mom know? Shrug.

But was God there? Yes, He most definitely was, and although at times I couldn’t feel Him, looking back I realized that what I thought were stumbling blocks were really stepping tones that shone like jewels on my way towards Heaven.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Thoughts on Early Autumn

Thank you to Google Images for the lovely image of a loon.

Autumn is always alluring
Blossoms burgeoning and blessed
Covering comely coulees
Dreading the deepest drifts.

Everywhere early enchantment
Frosting on fernery frail
Giving a gossamer glory
Hardly the harshness of hail.

Int'resting etchings enticing
Joyously jived back in June
Keeping the kiting kids carefree
Loving the lingering loon.

Many a mem'ry in making
Never a nebulous naive
Orchestrated opening to Autumn
P'rading like prisms ablaze.

Quaintly the quail are quibbling
Rustling the russet rushes
Sensing the seasonal shoreline
Tightening its terrible trusses.

Under umbrageous autumn
Venison visions unveil
Whispers of wintery wildness
eXposure to ice in the dale.

Yennings for yonder bright Yuletide
Zeal for the zennithing year...
Soon rosy cheeks will appear. 

So what do you think of this poem? I suppose it sounds pretty rustic. It was for a FanStory contest and the requirement was 27 lines each starting with a letter of the alphabet. Critique  welcome.

Monday, April 13, 2015

What's Ahead For Me?

Who walked this road before me,
Who traveled down this lane?
Does it get wet and muddy,
Is it obscured by rain?

You walked this road before me
And your report is true.
You said that it got snowy
Add it was slippery to.

He walked this road before me
And said he could not see
The panther that was howling
From a starkly blackened tree. 

She walked this road before me
And said that it was lined
With fragrant, wild roses
And morning glory vines.

I'll walk this road before me
I'll travel on with care
It is the path I've chosen
To focus on this year. 

Marilyn Friesen