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Via Dolorosa
for those who have suffered abuse.
Where does one go to forget?
Where does one go to erase
Memories filled with regret?
Nightmares of shame and disgrace?
What does one do with the pain
Abusers and users inflict?
The scabs that again and again
Peel off where one’s soul has been kicked?
Day-to-day how does one cope
With feeling so dirty and marred?
How does one hold on to hope
While feeling both worthless and scarred?
Why must the curse of one day
Be stronger than one joy-filled year?
Why can’t one’s blessings outweigh
The burden of one silent tear?
Is this the cross I must bear?
Must I carry this burden alone?
Pleading for bread was my prayer—
But then why was I given a stone?
Is there a place where the past
Disappears like the mist at the dawn?
Freed from the terror at last?
To awaken and find that it’s gone!
Must one first die and then rise?
Be redeemed, born again, be made new?
Why must that long-suffered prize
Seem so close yet so long overdue?
God! If you love me then I
Will do all that I can to be brave.
Show me whenever I cry
That there’s more hope in life than the grave.
“Come,” Jesus says, “by my might
All your sorrows and griefs I will share.
For my yoke, it is easy and light.
I will carry what you cannot bear.
“I will comfort each terror and fear;
There will be no more death, grief, or pain;
I will wipe away every tear;
I will pour out my blessings like rain.”
“Tomorrow will come, but today
I will give you the strength to go on.
I will walk by your side on the way,
And together we’ll rise with the dawn.”
.
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James A. Tweedie is a retired pastor living in Long Beach, Washington. He has written and published six novels, one collection of short stories, and three collections of poetry including Mostly Sonnets, all with Dunecrest Press. His poems have been published nationally and internationally in The Lyric, Poetry Salzburg (Austria) Review, California Quarterly, Asses of Parnassus, Lighten Up Online, Better than Starbucks, WestWard Quarterly, Society of Classical Poets, and The Chained Muse.
for me at 77 it has never gone away. I don’t wallow in the remembrance of it. If I were in charge, the molesters would be put to death.
Wayne,
Thank you for your comment—painful though it was to read. The poem was written for you. I wish you well on this Good Friday.
James, I recently heard from a friend that he had been abused as a child. He had been baptized because it was pro forma, but never taken to church or taught to pray. However, wandering into an empty church when about 10 years old, he saw the sanctuary crucifix and recognized a friend. Let’s hope your words, like that sculptor’s art, can point out the Source of healing.
James, I have often asked the questions you pose in this ‘sorrowful way’ poem. Stanza eight shouts out to me. You capture the grief and angst of life on earth. Thank goodness God shows His face in the beauty that surrounds us and in our creative hearts… we have a lot to be grateful for this Eastertide and always.
James, although the subject of your poem is the life spoiling burden of abuse, your message is decidedly one of faith and hope. Thanks for this uplifting Easter piece.
James, this is a thoughtful, painful, ultimately inspiring poem of pain leading to redemption. I especially liked the personal cry “God! If you love me then I
Will do all that I can to be brave.” It shows in just a few words how it is possible to tolerate so much if one has faith. I don’t see how those who do not have faith even cope.
A very happy Easter to you and yours!
This is a poem for anyone who suffers or has suffered at the hands of a user / abuser. Thank you for writing it.
Cheryl,
Feel free to share the poem with anyone who you believe might benefit from it. I wrote it for a friend who greatly appreciated it. As a (now retired) pastor I was painfully privileged to have a number of women trust me enough to share their stories of abuse and the effect that experience has had on their life. Men, of course, suffer from abuse as well, but I had an abused man share his story with me. The poem was painful to write as it forced me to remember those stories and the women who shared them.
This is quite beautiful, Mr. Tweedie. In your penultimate stanza were you thinking of Is. 45:8 (Drop down dew, heavens, and let clouds rain the Just One)?
I was. There are multiple scripture references in the closing. stanzas. Thank you for taking the time to comment.