not so muchmore where i am at the moment and why i am at this place

 

Your story of Experience, Strength and Hope:
not so much recovery. more where i am at the moment and why i am at this place. Im now 45. I wrote it about 13 years ago

HAVE YOU GOT A LIGHT?

I was seven on the day, my uncle asked me to play.
He asked if I’d like to have a toy fight.
The dirty old bastard, he stole my light.

Be a good boy and you’ll go to heaven.
What did I know, I was only seven.
I asked him to stop it.  I felt strange.
He reached into his pocket and threw me some change.
“Everyone does it.  It’s always been done, but all the same you mustn’t tell anyone.”

I don’t remember the details of what went on that night,
But many years on I can see it was then I began losing my light.
It happened for more years than I care to admit.
For my part in all this, I will always feel shit.
For years I would ask him, “Are you sure this is right?”
“Of course it is,” he’d say.  He didn’t care about my light.

One summer’s day, messing in the park
I was with a mate, you know, just having a lark.
“Does your uncle wank you off?” I said.
“No, that’s queer!”  He moved away. I felt myself going red.
“Does yours?” he asked, straining to hear.
I gave him a dead leg, “fuck off,” I laughed! “I’m no queer.”
Come six o’clock we’re both tired and rotten,
I’ still wonder if that conversation is forgotten.

And yet my uncle still persisted with his claim.
“Come on,” he’d say.  “It’s harmless fun.  Let’s have another game.”
I WAS DYING.  WHY COULDN’T YOU SEE?
I was full of nervous twitches, YOU SHOULD HAVE RESCUED ME!
I wonder if he knew that it would affect me to this day.
Or did he even care? As long as he could play.

It’s totally destroyed my life, that’s why this poem I will not sign.
Life is frightening enough when your sanity’s on the line.
I sometimes feel I’m loosing it, I’m loosing control.
There’s blackness in my heart, in my mind and in my soul.

I’ve been in touch with therapists looking for a light,
But do you know what? Some of them are full of shite!
Because, you see, they are not funded to help a little lad of thirty-two,
So they give you a few numbers, tell you not to give up hope, but there’s nothing they can do.

I tried hypnotherapy, meditation too.
To find my light, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.
Then there’s religion, I try with all that I am to believe in God and heaven,
But that’s not easy, not for me, Not since I was seven.

Should I have written this poem?
Please don’t judge me wrong or right.
But the little lad who is with me always thought it might help to find his light.

2 thoughts on “not so muchmore where i am at the moment and why i am at this place

  1. gratefull Post author

    Hi Thank You for sharing this. Your search to rediscover your light reminded me of a touching story I heard a few years ago which I’ve pasted below. I wish you well on your journey

    The Given Light 
    Barbara Hug  

    Once upon a time a man had heard, that in a foreign place, far away, there was a holy flame burning.
    So he got up and left his home to find the holy flame and bring some of its light back home to his house. He thought: ‘When I have this light, then I will have happiness and life and all the people I love will have it too.’He travelled far, far away and finally found the holy flame, with which he lit his light.

    On his way back he had only one worry: ‘That his light could go out.’On his way home he met someone who was freezing and didn’t have any fire and who begged him to give him some of his fire. The man with the light hesitated for a moment. Wasn’t his light too precious, too holy to be given away for something ordinary like that?
    Despite these doubts, he decided to give some of his light to the one who was freezing in the darkness.The man continued his journey home and when he had almost reached his house a terrible thunderstorm started. He tried to protect his light from the rain and the storm, but at the end his light went out.

    To return the long way back to the place where the holy flame was burning was impossible, he wouldn’t have had enough strength to go back this far – but he was strong enough to return to the human being whom he had helped on his way home……….and with his light he could light his own again.

    Reply
  2. Dean

    Such a beautiful poem, thank you so much for sharing. IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT
    you are not your addiction, you are not your mind, you are not your thoughts
    as I have heard. Your words were simply spell-binding. I hope you heal
    in the most incredible, life-enduring way. Just reading this went some
    way to mend my shattered, downtrodden heart.

    Much appreciation and Love to you friend.

    Reply

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