moving images
out of the swirling mists of time
images flit like scenes on a movie screen.
her dark hair in short cut, smooth and sleek,
lying coyly against perfect curve of cheek.
next image of child with chopped-off bangs
standing forlornly in kitchen doorway,
little striped cotton pants fall low,
eyes peer cautiously into lamplight’s glow.
through fog i see her glance at me:
mother’s gaze, so full of certainty.
daughter will survive harsh world,
grow into a brave, steady girl.
how wrong she was, this mother mine
lost now to cruel winds of time
for tumult wrecked the childhood lost
onto rocky shore fair dream was tossed.
i awaken to alarm clock’s clang
begin another drudgey day to slog,
put memory away till later time
when night’s embrace again lets film unwind.
by S.T. Martin c. 2012
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Author: ST Martin
I am an Artist, Poet and Author. A Survivor of Violent Sexual Abuse and Rape, I have lived thru Severe Domestic Violence, Twenty Three years of Addiction and Alcoholism, Family Dysfunction, Chronic Pain, Dependence on Opioids, and 2 Venomous Snake Bites...I have Been Stabbed, Shot at, Tied to a Tree and Choked Unconscious. A Quarter Horse Rolled on Me, as did a Lawn Tractor. I also Wrecked a Harley into a Tree! I also have PTSD and Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder, and spent my 18th birthday in a Locked Psychiatric Ward. I am so much more than this: I feel like a tiny seed that sprouted in a desert, and now has grown into a Passion Vine. My Art is my Voice, Screaming, Crying, Praying, Loving, Laughing, Healing- all in Riotous Color...
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