the damage inflicted with
the kinetic energy
of a heavy maul.
[Kevin]
Every event of each life
seeks to teach unique
cause-effect consequences
with the nuanced clues perceived,
or not, depending
on one’s conceived reflections
of altercations
suffered or demonstrations
that chose more circuitous
routes to refute points,
views or issues with less fuss.
Unfortunately
I was unprepared to stare
at the consequential acts
that stacked up regrets
of the loss that crossed my path
to enlightenment.
Blood red remembrances fed
my nightmares of deep despair.
Twisting fared far worse
than the course I must traverse
now that I perceive
the need to be pure when I’m
sure that I must secure a
severe, ultimate
banishment of ignorant,
vile abasement.
[Bree]
Does ‘pure’ mean free from rancor?
[Kevin]
The bullet that flew can’t spew
from enraged revenge
nor from any caged vengeance.
It must be a cold,
calculated consequence
that holds the preservation
of life most sacred
and the bold attempt to force
compliance acrid.
Ignorance of that core truth
must be sorely confronted.
Unfortunately,
life may be forfeit when fools
refuse to just quit.
Not being omniscient, who
will carry the fool’s imprint?
Life must be lived well
to dispel ignorance and
naive reasoning.
Twisting most grievously lost
the battle; I lost the war.
Winning has dire
consequences that mired
my soul in darkness.
I tried to be Bree’s helper
but found our trauma too
profound for us to
rebound back into the life
before death’s hard shock.
I hold dear my rancor for
caustic behavior but will
savor the person
that is the cauldron for pure,
heavenly, good soup.
[Bree]
I’m sorry I could not stay.
[Kevin]
Do not begrudge what we pay
along the way as
we traverse paths to rehearse
acts that will add or
subtract to the benefit
of unforeseen, future days.
We have different
cogent growth points pertinent
to the uniqueness
of each and every life force
along its evolving course.
[Joseph Ward]
From all that’s been said
let’s not be misled by her
willful destruction,
malicious or otherwise,
of his lavish property.
Young Tina’s anguish
is originally Bart’s
criminality.
Legally proven or not,
child statutory rape will
devastate deeply.
The twenty-seven year old
preditor consoled
the innocent child of twelve
with intoxicants to mold
innocence into
sensual bliss to dismiss
reality’s pain
to gain sexual pleasure
through feigned affection’s deceit.
He lived next door so
this creep had complete knowledge
of her daily strife
and the impoverished life
that made her vulnerable
and likable as
a sweet conquest to ingest
and lay to rest his
manly inadequacies
or to honor his well honed,
narcissistic self.
He ought to be stoned, bludgeoned
with jagged, sharp rocks.
I’m an adult survivor
of child sexual abuse,
an experience
so obtuse it will induce
confusion, then fear
with adulthood’s intrusion
into delicate flesh pressed
into submission.
My predator wore trappings
of the holy men
of the Roman Catholic
persuasion with occasion
to scrutinize the
confession of my weakness
with puberty’s test
to suppress, as bet I could,
the biochemical urge
that stimulates Life’s
command to impregnate girls
to unfurl more life.
Advantage perpetrator !
Particulars will author
the uniqueness of
Tina’s trauma from my own.
Consequently, I
can’t enthrone any knowledge
of her experience as
an explicit clone
of mine, but there exists clear
commonalities:
the shock, the confusion and
the fear. I am here, Tina,
to share my struggle
with the care denied the fair
child ensnared gently
in delicate destruction
woven in sly seduction.
It is not the sex,
in biochemical terms,
that infirms the child
defiled by those who ought
to have fought to protect and
comfort frail fledglings
not ready to self protect
from violators
of sincerity and trust,
of decency and respect.
It is the abject
narcissistic selfishness
to lie and deceive,
betray, confuse and use souls
for their unchecked personal
pleasure that measures
the extent of putrid rot
that’s not effortless
to stop as youthful vigor
and hopefulness are distressed.
Tina, you grew through
five tough years before you knew
to construe Bart’s view
of you as a free woman
to be independent of
his cardinal urge
to purge your autonomous
voice and thoughtful choice
as insignificant fluff.
Each blow would flow from a fresh
determination
that you are more than his flesh
for his conscription.
Bravo and well done, Tina.
You should know I’ve spent three years
with pent up, wild rage
when engaged in therapy
with intensity,
with white-knuckled hands clutching
my chair and a despair that
rose a flood of tears
with intractable weeping
initiating
a total paralysis
rendering me completely,
defenselessly weak.
I suspect you stared down guilt
for acts against Bart.
Blood was not spilt. I accept
her lack of regret and more.
I applaud her tact
to react with force against
a heinous human
source and enforce a limit
when others never bothered.