GARDEN
OF
ABUSE
I will repay you
For the years
The locusts have eaten.
(Joel 2:25a)
Garden of Abuse. How could anything as hideous
as abuse ever be referred to as a garden? A garden
does not usually begin on its own; it must be planted.
Such is the Garden of Abuse. Its bad beginning is
from the hand and acts of sinful man; its ending is
from the hand and acts of righteous God. What Satan
and evil man meant for bad, God meant for good. God
can make the uneven, even, and the crooked, straight.
He WILL (if we let Him) restore to us what the locusts
of destruction took from us, as a child or as an adult.
Through my own and others’ life experiences and
through personifying the course of nature, I’ve seen
a most unique and wondrous garden emerge from fields
of stubble, heaps of hardened dirt, and piles of crusted
rocks. Their beautiful heads have wound their ways
through the tangled weeds and prickly thorns, as they
courageously broke through the crusted ground cover that
held them captive season after season. The crop? A
hearty, splendorous garden amid a field of abuse.
These poems explore issues surrounding abuse and the
hearts of its victims, or they offer a type of hope for the
survivors. Many of the flowers and beauties in this garden
have human names; they could be anyones - mine, yours, or
others we know.
FETAL PAYMENT PLAN
Who do you think you are,
Taking my life so people won’t know?
You played the game and lost,
But it is I who must pay your debt.
You think you’re untouched
In your make-believe world;
Little do you know, my Dear,
About this insidious payment plan.
The hole inside you
That used to be me
Gets larger and emptier,
As time passes by;
Though my body was
Torn, ripped, and destroyed,
My spirit still lives;
That can’t be denied!
That child playing
In the nearby park -
Does she look like me,
Like what you thought I’d be?
Or do I look like the child
You unceasingly see when,
Through long, unending nights,
You gaze into the mirror of your soul?
Year following tormented year,
You push my memory aside.
Life becomes a blur;
Everywhere are constant reminders of me.
Where is this person
You once knew and understood?
Did only an unimportant part of you die
When, from me, you were set free?
Then comes the day
When your deed you realize.
You can run no more;
Nothing can you hide.
Abysmal agony gnaws
At the door of your soul -
This aborted fetus,
With its infinite payment plan.
Copyright, 2008
JAD: For every woman who has aborted a child (or plans to):
This was one of the most important decisions you will ever
make in your life. It was one that will affect you, directly or
indirectly, the rest of your life. Abortion affects the body, soul,
spirit, emotions, and mind of a woman; it affects her ability to
be a wife and mother. Abortion is not normally categorized
as abuse, but, in my opinion, it is major abuse - first , to the
unborn child and next, to the woman herself. She may be
more educated about abortion than in past years, but she still
does not see the whole picture until years and years later.
Know that God can restore the locusts of abortion, too.
PROSTITUTED INNOCENCE
Little child frolicking free
Unaware, unaware of this beast you must flee;
Helpless and hurt, tormented and tried,
The one you loved most
Was that beast when unleashed.
Your tilting laughter and smiling eyes
Would soon lose all gaiety - seemingly, even life;
The frail body so innocently made
Had become an object
Of depravity and abuse.
Tucked infinitely in the recesses of her mind,
Tumultuous life of shame and guilt, tossed in the wind;
For not at all did she know that her promiscuity
Was merely a replay
Of her prostituted innocence.
Copyright, 2008
JAD: Why so much sexual immorality in today’s society?
Is it that mankind is so wicked - or might it possibly be
that the promiscuous teen or adult is merely acting out a
young history of sexual abuse?
SOFT, SPLENDOR MOMENT
When, in one soft, splendor moment
Hungry feelings isolated have been awakened,
Something inside released to suppress
The magic that moment was intended to bring.
Why not a natural response to pleasure afford,
But, instead, overwhelmed rushes of guilt and remorse?
Think not it be a reminder of innocent youth,
When the flower plucked then was much off nature’s course?
Though plucked, this flower superficially grew
Into, what others saw, a most beautiful bouquet;
Inside the stem and rose petal face
No one could see a most delicate decay.
By God’s saving grace, she still lives today,
But the truth of her past still wakes in her heart;
Her longing to share one soft, splendor moment
Leaves her still gazing at the wall of her mind.
Copyright, 2008
JAD: Abuse victims often have intimacy issues. One who
has been sexually abused by one or ones close in the family,
have familial-tie issues; it is difficult for them, after marriage,
to enjoy physical union. Previous to marriage, it might not
have been a difficult issue.
