Some of our clients find that poetry can be a valuable part of the healing process. It can be a creative way for someone to express their inner emotions, and also helps the reader to understand what the writer is experiencing in difficult times.
We encourage our clients to put pen to paper as a way of ventilating powerful feelings and to alleviate stress.
If you are survivor and would like to make a contribution to the survivors’ poetry page, please contact us. You can choose to publish under a pseudonym if you wish.
I Was That Child
I was that child whose innocence was taken
And like all the others was left forsaken.
I was that child on whom people turned their backs
And left us to the devices of the Keith Laveracks.
I was that child who used to be free
I was that child who once played happily.
I was that child who was told not to tell
Of the nights in "that room" or of the living hell.
I was that child who used to lie there and shiver
I was that child, abused and aquiver.
I was that child wracked and laden with guilt
About what went on, under that quilt.
I was that child in straps and chained
I was that child left alone and in pain.
I was that child who was told she was bad
And if she told the truth they would say she was mad.
I was that child who once ran away
But was soon taken back, and was then made to pay!
I was that child, and like lots of others
The years have now past and many are mothers.
I was that child with a secret untold
Until a knock on the door, and the story unfolds.
I was that child filled with guilt and with shame
Who had to tell the Police, again and again.
I was that child, now with 18 years past
Had to relive the nightmares and the freezing cold baths.
I was that child who had to explain, to parent and partner
About what happened then.
I was that child, when tears started to fall
Was told it wasn't my fault
I couldn't help it at all.
I was that child - I wasn't to blame,
And one thing's for sure it won't happen again!
I was that child and when I look and see
I look in the mirror and that child is ME.
Victims with Voices
I shouted real loud
The leaves started to fall
The branches exposed
Naked truth shown to all
I shouted real loud
New life had no choices.
We should all shout out loud,
Us, Victims with Voices.
There is no way to tell you now of the pain you caused to me,
You've moved onto another world; I suffer, you don't see.
My body may have grown up, but a child remains within,
Remembering the torture, the agony of your sin.
There were so many of us; how did it last so long?
The anguish and the brutalness of the road we travelled on.
Alone I sat and cried each night, for freedom I would pray
Just to be within a family, to live a normal day.
The smells, the sounds, the hatred, remain here with me still,
They will not set me free of you, I guess they never will.
Your face appears here in my home, I thought you'd gone for good,
They said they'd throw the key away, I really think they should.
A battle in order to survive, another day I fight
Because you chose to take from me my innocence, my right,
One day I'll wake and there won't be another thought of you,
When I can be a loving Mum, you see that's what I do.
I try to give my children love and tenderness and care
But when they cry your twisted face somehow will reappear.
Don't think you're here forever, locked up within my mind,
You are a man so evil, twisted and unkind.
There is no place for men that do the wicked things you do
An eternity of torment I hope you will go through.
But for now they keep you locked away from children just like me
Their happy smiling faces I know you will never see.
Remember though that one day even you will have to die
And many, oh so many of us, will come to say goodbye.
Not just to the body that will rot below the ground
But to the thought of knowing that you are still around.
Maybe then upon that day each of us will know,
As we look into each other's eyes, all thoughts of you can go.