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Fragments Of Me

 

Fragments of Me

 

Copyright 2016 Marcus Kruger

Published by MB Kruger at Shakespir

 

 

 

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who am i

 

father
brother
uncle
son

 

gay
straight
ambivalent

 

teacher
author
technician
musician

 

i believe
i was created
for a sole purpose
and that
to worship God
and that
alone

 

anything else
everything else
is outside
and not part
of that calling

 

if it deters
detracts
interrupts that purpose
then
it deserves no place

 

but
if it does not
stand in the way
or otherwise
obstruct
that sole purpose

it is mine
to accept
or reject

 

and mine
alone

 

message from within

 

I want you to stop

trying to remember
the bad that happened
when we were little

We both know it happened
We both know it hurt
I suffered from it then
you suffer from it now
I just remember more than you do

 

But I want you to stop trying to remember

all the bad things
and instead
walk through other memories from me

 

there were rainbows, and fields full of flowers

hills to roll down
or slide down when it snowed
p.       milk weed
with the gigantasaurus blossoms
that would explode
with a puff of air
sending all its little angels with umbrellas
floating
and I would sit and watch
and watch
and tell myself another story

 

I don’t know if you remember the stories

I don’t remember the stories
I guess maybe they were for the time right then
not something to be saved

 

I also want you to take some time

and remember mommy and daddy
because I miss them very very much
they weren’t always mean and angry all the time
not ‘til after the bad things

 

remember the sunshine

laying in the grass
watching the clouds go by
dreaming of flying with eagles
or swimming with whales
p.
remember the shale mountain
with the snail shells
or climbing to the castle
where you could see heaven

 

remember the things that made us smile

maybe they can make you smile again
so you don’t hurt anymore

 

and maybe we’ll be a little stronger

before the monsters return
next time

 

without me

 

true pain
p.       is knowing that this world
p.   would not
be diminished one iota
p.           if I were not in it

yet

we are
p.       the only reason
p.               we have
and
p.   the only chance
available

 

innocence lost

 

echoes of yesterday
p.       mix with vibrations of tomorrow
p.               bringing about the cacophony of today

and in the middle stands the child
p.       hands over his ears

lips parted

                in a silent cry
p.     never to be heard

shadows

           both past and present
sweet and bitter
p.   weave at his feet

and in the chaos of the moment
p.       the innocence is lost to guile
p.               and childhood to Pandemonium

undone
p.       unfinished
p.               unwanted

he weeps alone

 

say what?

 

If I’m innocent
Blameless
Not accountable for the horror that befell me

Why am I the one covered with filth?

 

child’s play

 

            I have all these blocks.

carefully, so carefully
one on top of the other
I place them
like treasures
and my shelter takes form

until it gets kicked down

so I find a better place
ground more level
and no one else around
but it’s lonely
so I knock the blocks down
and move on

I find a new friend
and together we build
the very bestest of walls
tremendous – big, so big

then he kicks it down
cuz, well really,
he only wanted to play a little while
and now he knows
how he wants his blocks to be
so he don’t need me

I’m just in the way

so he takes his blocks elsewhere
and make his own things

I don’t know if I have the strength
to try building anymore

But …
p.           I have all these blocks.

 

recovery defined

 

I sit in a chair of thorns

   at a fractured table of glass

 

tired – beaten – worn

   and dying of thirst

the chair tears new gashes in me

   as I try to find comfort

the table buries tiny shards

   just under my skin if I touch it.

 

I can stand

   turn away from the table

      and walk away from the

         instruments of pain

      even to heal my wounds

         and feel whole

            again

 

but on the center of the table is a glass

   full of fresh – clean – cold –

      clear water

beside it a pitcher

   its sides frosted

      by its icy contents

 

I am not restrained

   tied – held

there are no bars

   no walls

      or other restrictions

between me and

   the satiation

      of this thirst

 

there is, however, one condition

to be refreshed

   I must step through a doorway

      that shall close

         the minute I pass

      and disolve away into wall

         as if never there

      and I can never go back

         to where I was

 

and I cannot leave the only thing I know

   for what is uncertain

no matter how enticing

   or glorious

 

so I sit on a chair of thorns

   at a fractured table of glass

 

the blessing

 

Oh masterful Creator and Lord of life,
You who made all that I know
p.   and could ever hope to know,

Did you truly intend to make me as I am?

Am I expected to live with this desire
p.   this hunger
For another man’s presence in my life?

 

If I am in fact “fearfully and wonderfully made”
Then it is Your divine hand that created me,
p.   formed me to be what I am
p.   knowing who I was to be.

 

In love I am created, so in love I must live.

 

But my Lord, my gracious Savior,
How is it you would decide to lay this at my feet?
Why would I be given such a torment?
I beg you, what could be the reason?

 

The answer, low, sweet, and pure
Was as soft as my cries were loud,
p.   as gentle as mine were full of anguish,
p.   as calm as mine were tormented.

 

 

“Certain gifts are only given to the truly strong.

Blessed is the one who receives such a gift from my hand.”

 

a sunny day

 

I look out my window
at dark, rolling clouds
flooding rain
and angry flashes of light

so very different than yesterday
when the sun was bright
and warm
the scent of wildflowers
filled the air
with the occasional drone of a honey bee
or a glimpse of the tissue-soft wings
of a butterfly as it passes

on a sunny day I could, for the moment, ignore the stench of my world

[the grass is a soft bed
of richest aroma
one blade
carefully and properly held
between two thumbs
will form a reed horn
blowing across it brings the honking sound
of a very sick goose
and catapults me into giggles, and joyful laughter
__]
on a sunny day I could, for the moment, forget the evil that was at home

[I could run thru these fields forever
my arms spread
fingertips lightly brushing the top of plants as I pass
bringing the illusion of me skimming the surface of this grand sea of colors
trailing the bee
and butterfly]

on a sunny day I could, for the moment, be a child again
and not an oaf
stupid fool
or unwanted accident

and even now
after the passing of too many dark nights
I can remember the warmth
the infrequent sounds and smells
of complete abandon
in the world of my childhood

and shed a tear in memory
of a sunny day

 

Notes To Fellow Musicians

 

Nimble fingers fly over the keys
And the symphony is born
The sound at first gentle and soft
Like sunrise kissing the morn

My heart decides to trust again
The music slowly swells
A tender word, acceptance given
And hope within me dwells

Whether laughter or tears are shared
As we meet upon the lines
The composition grows stronger still
As our melodies entwine

There are no words that can say
How a new life got its start
But each of you has given notes
To the song that fills my heart

 

partials

 

when you know only pieces
p.   and scattered at that
of a time when things didn’t go so right

and then later in life
p.   when your guard isn’t up
another piece falls into the light

and all those horrible thoughts
p.   from your imagination
don’t even come close to what’s real

you have to sit back
p.   and wonder a bit
was it worth all the effort to feel

 

and time marches on

 

too many years chasing rainbows
searching for the pot of gold
answers to the riddles
and the lies i’ve been told

one after another
people let me down
until my cries of anguish
are the only remaining sound

gloom hangs heavy like a shroud
stealing away my breath
it’s hard to find joy in life
when all I see is death

the child within has pulled away
he lies curled in a ball
unable to find the strength to stand
unwilling to try at all

i have never been one to just give up
to turn away – and yet
after years of trying to remember
i want now just to forget

 

with the best of intentions

 

so busy building
p.     strengthening walls
p.           adding the best bricks
p.                 so nothing falls

quick-setting mortar
p.     to hold all in place
p.           hands moving swiftly
p.                 as if in a race

security everything
p.     safety comes first
p.           keeping out danger and evil
p.                 or worse

too late i notice
p.     and there is no doubt
p.           instead of sheltering myself in
p.                 i’ve walled myself out

 

soul’s song

 

fingers slide over the keys
p.     as my soul listens
p.           listens ever so closely
p.     for a note
p.           just one note
p.     that touches

for once a note is found
p.     a second is that much easier
p.           and a third
p.                 fourth

and from the depths of despair
p.     comes a symphony of hope
p.           and longing

shadows fade
p.     and darkness quivers
p.           as the light breaks forth

note by note

 

just another day

 

the sun rises

and my head is hungover

with remnants of the nightmares

that plagued my sleep

 

he is here

he is always here

head thrown back

as his body shakes with raucous laughter

at my expense

 

I close my eyes

only to see his face

my body quakes with fear

as I hold back screams of terror

 

years of therapy

yet the scene continues to play

empty medicine bottles

that held empty promises

that the current one

was the right one

 

the sky dims early today

and the air turns to frost

it is beyond me

and yet – on this day –

I have no concern

 

desires for freedom

lead to hope

and hope frays the edges

of my heart

until I can bear no more

 

and long for a tomorrow

that never arrives

but stays as black

as my very soul

 

fatigue

 

I am tired of getting nowhere
after miles of walking round
I am weary from the heartache
and the torment most profound

I look forward to the end-zone
when my life at last is blest
and my eyes close in quiet slumber
in life’s final bed of rest

do not weep for me my true friend
nor think me all alone
I have traveled the road with many
all the others met and known

yet I cannot keep believing
there are better days in store
now all I want is sweet surrender
never hurting any more

I’ve no plan for going over
there’s no map to lead me there
but in steadfast contemplation
I wish to leave this place of cares

So I’ll just wait upon this hillside
as the sun begins to set
rethinking the need to remember
what the child chose to forget

looking at life

 

I look up

I look down

 

all I see is the shroud

of liquid night

 

impenetrable

suffocating

 

the pills don’t help anymore

the talks don’t help anymore

 

I have to move

get away from this spot

this place of torment and shadow

 

I hear the laughter of life

just beyond my reach

 

and my tears hit the floor

without sound

defiance

 

fearful, abandoned, lost, alone
p.   yesterday’s feelings still echo loudly
p.       down the halls of my memory
p.   emotions affixed to a point in time
so long ago
p.   and yet
p.      so recent

the fear is gone
p.   replaced by anger and wrath
p.       fury’s fire forever flaming forward

no longer abandoned
p.   reclaimed by self
p.      the adult shell that covers the hiding place of the child

still lost, though no longer hopeless
I’ve learned to plot my course
p.   on a day-by-day
p.      sometimes step-by-step
p.   basis

and now surrounded
p.   by so many peers
p.   no longer alone

yet the loneliness is greater now
p.   than ever before
and most likely
p.   less than it will be
p.      tomorrow

no longer speechless
p.   or lost in situations for which no words
p.      can exist
p.         for such a young heart

I now have a voice
p.   and I speak out the past
each word a driven nail
p.   piercing the root
p.      of the old shadows

the greatest change being age
p.   the irresistible force that molds me
p.      twists and tears
p.   until I more resemble the perpetrator
p.      than the victim

and yet it is change

and though I may weep
p.   as I claw through the rubble
p.   and the ashes
p.       of my youth

        not quite a phoenix

I do arise

and
p.   I
p.      will
p.         continue

 

Ode To The Survivor

 

At one time hurt
p.    confused and ashamed
p.        over things that you had endured

Now steadier hands
p.    more self-confident stance
p.        your footsteps are more secure

Many pitfalls and traps
p.    have lain ‘fore your feet
p.          when you feared you would never survive

Yet with continuing effort
p.     and help from your friends
p.          you’re learning now how to thrive

And though at one time
p.     if you looked for hope
p.          chances are you found less than zero

Now each day brings you closer
p.     to full victory
p.          and the day you become your own hero

pieces

 

It was only my third year
p.     when she first touched me
Now in therapy we’re finding
p.     pieces of three

Two more years she would have me
p.     don’t know how I survived
Now I’m starting to discover
p.     pieces of five

We then moved to a new city
p.     a new home – a new state
And for three years my brother
p.     gave me pieces of eight

For two more years torture
p.     from him and his friends
But she left and got married
p.     at least one part did end

… somewhere deep in my mind there hide
p.     pieces of ten

From eleven to fourteen
p.     no memories exist
So here – no new pieces
p.     have been found to exist

Yet I wonder and worry
p.     therapy has unearthed something new
And my world – once more shaken
p.     by pieces
p.           of two

 


Fragments Of Me

  • ISBN: 9781310224126
  • Author: MB Krueger
  • Published: 2016-06-02 18:35:10
  • Words: 2534
Fragments Of Me Fragments Of Me