Two old poems from childhood

[Mwin]

I am visiting home and did a deep dive of photo albums, old journals, and keepsakes for some clarity, "evidence", and answers. I'm honestly shocked by these poems that I found that were written in middle school (around the time of CSA). We were given prompts and instructions in school, but I think that the notebook itself was only for our personal viewing. Part of me feels like because I was searching for answers that my interpretation of the content is biased and colored. The other part of me feels like this in a way confirms my experience and how I felt about it.

afraid
cold mist
a little like fog
dark cloudy skies
city lights pass me by
deep, musty basement in the corner,
lives a little girl,
her name, no one knows
she's trapped, can't get out
screaming for help!
god help her
please
she sits there
and waits
as the sun rises
as the sun falls
she waits
cobwebs
of fear
cover her
locking her up
into darkness
invisible
she lays...
so afraid,
but nobody knows

colors to emotions
black --> fear
This is my black memory.
she lied on her bed
waiting for someone or something to
pop out
her greatest fear,
the dark
she felt unsafe
with no protection
she waited to drift
away in her sleep
and for the
fear to be
forgotten

[plantsandtigers]

Hi Mwin,

Thank you for sharing these. I was very struck by both of them. I have some old diaries and copybooks from school back ‘home’ but I can’t visit there. I often wonder what’s in them, especially creative writing exercises. I remember writing some poems and stories that were very dark.

I hear your wondering whether you’re putting meaning into these where it doesn’t belong, but in all honesty if I read these poems by a child I would be concerned about what was happening at home, they have a real depth of experience and darkness to them. I hope these discoveries are helpful to you.

plantsandtigers

[Mwin]

Thank YOU, plantsandtigers, for writing. I appreciate your validating words about the darkness of the poems. The amount of times my mind jumps from "I'm making a big deal out of nothing" to "this really happened" is exhausting and frustrating. This "investigation" of mine has brought up many mixed emotions. Mostly sadness and heartbreak for my younger self. Looking at photos indicated to me that my abuse lasted over a longer period of time than I remembered (10-13 years old at least), which is more unsettling to me than what I initially thought. This may be the last time that I am home and able to search for answers, so as painful as it is, I can't help it.