The Blanket of Pockets Page #2

I wrote this story while on my healing journey.

• Anthology

								

The woman of warmth sensed her fright and began to speak of it.
“Yes, my dear, it is very scary to think that you
Can’t mend the fabric, unless the blanket is off
And set before you eyes.
Pockets and pockets standing lifeless
Had been forgotten by her a long time ago.
The woman of warmth told her the blankets
Heaviness came from carrying the blanket of many
pockets.
The young woman studied the warm woman closely and carefully
Wondering indeed if the warm woman was leading her astray
Or is she really knew of something to help the young woman
Over her sadness
That she had so tightly crammed into the blanket pockets.
Warily and cautiously the young woman asked,
“How do I get rid of this blanket of tiredness?”
She then studied the woman in uncertain disbelief.
It took forever for the warm woman to answer –
A thoughtful time.
The warm woman warned the young woman,
” It will take a bit of time to grow free of the heavy blanket.
It will take time to forget the fear.
It will take time to open the pockets carefully with love for each one.
Before the young woman, there was a little girl,
And the blanket had been just a mantle to cover her,
And keep out the bitter cold.”
The warm woman chided her,
“You look in the mirror, my young woman
And see for yourself the heaviness of the blanket.
I look in the same mirror and see the young woman – you,”
Giving her more room to cover up.
But, thinking and magically wishing –
Wishing didn’t take away the heaviness from inside her.
Finally she decided to just keep the pain
And for a very, very, very long time, she struggled with
The heaviness of the blanket
Until her shoulders could stand no more.
The blanket was so tightly wrapped around her
For it was a little girl’s blanket, and she had become a woman.
Doctors from faraway came and gave her drugs to kill the pain,
To let the little girl sleep.
But non-wanted to look beyond the darkness of the woman’s blanket
To the real problem underneath.
Finally, a woman of warmth told her that deep inside those blanket pockets
All stuffed were pieces and bits of the young woman’s childhood.
Black stones from the times of darkness,
Red pockets, so terribly red for the times of horror,
Old playmates from the time of childhood protectors of pain.
“You still fear the bitter cold,
You doubt today’s light and tomorrow’s quiet.
Many times you seek the night of sleeping before the anticipation of night.
There is much pain in remembering, but remembering this too:
It shall shed sunlight that is deep in the pockets, as well as sadness,
Playfulness and peace as well as anger,
Times of victory as well as evil people.”
The young woman listened, thinking of the words,
Filled of questions and confusion,
Wanting never to remember,
Wanting to remember,
Mostly feeling fear of these pockets
And what they each possessed within each one.
“How do I begin?
Where do I find an angel strong enough?
What will my blanket be like when we’re finished?
Will the angels guide and keep me safe throughout this journey?”
The woman of warmth smiled.
“The little girl is our beginning.
The little girl of sadness and the blankets full of pockets.
The little girl who lives under the blanket of time.”
We will together hold and rock her close.
We will together protect her and show her.
Her angel of today.
The little girl of sadness is you.
She is where we begin.
But the angel we use isn’t of a child’s doing.
The angel we use will be your angel of today as an adult,
Who has wings of gentleness and strength of life.
An angel who watches over us carefully
Under no one’s God but your own.
The courage and the strength are yours, deep with the pockets.
It’s of the strength and will of one whom survived.
Together we must honor that courage, you and I.”
The woman of warmth continued,
“The new blanket will be a slow time of making and shaping,
So full of new life and vibrance.
No longer so heavily weighed of dark secrets.
It will not be a blanket of the childhood
But a blanket of you today and for the future of your life.”
The young woman knew deep inside her,
When she was very, very, very little.
God had shown her the way to catch a piece of his light,
And put it so very close to her heart.
Yet, darkness felt to be weighing on her shoulder even heavier than before.
And yet the words of the woman of warmth that promised her life,
With it’s angel aglare
Filled with warmth and very little despair.
That young woman went to God and prayed,
“Let the angel of life and love watch and guide over me,
Filling me with courage and belief to stay alive
And come to a peaceful place at the end of my journey
Filled with a new look at life.”
by Robin
Survivor of sexual, emotional,
abuse. Poverty as well.
Written sometime in 1996
ANOTHER STEP
Each day is another step,
A struggle through,
All the horrific happenings.
That we were once victims of!
I hear my Inner Child’s cry.
The pain is a sound of,
A loud cry of a wild animal in pain.
She only knows of her heartaches.
She as a child endured.
Through her growing years,
To much pain, yet she still stayed sane!
God take my hand and guide me,
Guide me in this time of need.
Surround me with your light.
Show me God of what to do!
Yes, faith can help
But I have very little faith God.
My faith has been so mixed up,
In the little Child’s life!
She learned of two faiths,
And now fights to find,
The faith that is so truly righ
Is it you God or the true Satan?
Satan the one she knows,
Knows best of all to the little girls
Knowledge only he’s best known
God if you are stronger than Satan.
Lift up this little girl’s life.
Help her to understand
The difference of the words,
Words used to lift her up.
Give her strength,
Show her, her own worth.
Do not let this little girl die.
Die at the wished and power of Satan.
By Robin
September 7,1993
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