A Prayer for Responsibility for Children
We pray for childrenwho sneak popsicles before supper,
who erase holes in math workbook,
who can never find their shoes.
And we pray for those
who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
who can't bound down the stret in a new pair of sneakers,
who never "counted potatoes",
who are born in places we wouldn't be caught dead,
who never go to the circus,
who live in an X-rated world.
We pray for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfulls of dandelions,
who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
And we pray for those
who never get dessert,
who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can't find any bread to steal,
who don't have rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We pray for children
who spend their allowance before Tuesday,
who throw tantrums in the grocery stores and pick at their food,
who like ghost stories,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed, and never rinse out the tub,
who get visits from the tooth fairy,
who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at,
and whose smiles can make us cry.
We pray for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who haven't ever seen a dentist,
who aren't spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children who want to be carried,
and for those who must,
for those we never give up on
and for those who don't get a second chance.
For those we smother . . . and for those who will grab
the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.
by Ina J. Hughs
Below is a poem written by a client survivor of childhood sexual abuse and my response to her. The poems were both written for our Annual National Vigil to promote awareness of sexual abuse. These poems were published in our April 1994 programs. The client was diagnosed with a Dissociative Disorder. Her poem reflects her anger and that faced by many other survivors. I ask that you continue to pray for this lady.
ANOTHER TIME
I never had a childhood, my innocence is forever gone,
I struggle to forget my past as the pain raages on and on.
I was labeled a failure, everything was "my" fault
No one really loved me, mistrust was all I was ever taught.
You don't abuse people you love, you're supposed to see that
they're protected;
If what I suffered was that thing called love, I wish I had
been rejected.
I was taught as a child to play a sick game and keep it hidden.
Any hint of true emotions were labeled totally forbidden.
I had one friend as a child, one I created inside my tortured mind,
If someone tries to hurt me again, they won't defeat this friend of mine.
Whenever the past hurts me, "Misery" teaches me to feel anger instead of pain,
People look in my eyes and see pain, but the hate is visible as well,
Misery resides behind the tears of my self-made hell.
Maybe "I
survived the abuse but a memory tears my soul apart
of a little girl that tried to hide at night;
Now a prisoner inside my blackened and broken heart . . .
Signed,
Misery
{Dedicated to Misery and others like her.}
TODAY, TOMORROW
Deep inside you there still exist that precious little girl
I'm sorry she had to endure her perpretraters' world.
And she is still just as innocent and pure
I pray to God to help me help you change her world.
Your talents, your poetry, it tells the anguish and pain
So many feel they are alone who have suffered the same.
Your bravery to share your loss is other survivors' gain
You have such overcoming powers to keep your life sane.
Your creativity shows wisdom born out of fear
Your strategy to prevent a lifetime full of tears
The inner defense to help you make it through the years
And now you have made it all the way to here...
A place where healing begins to slowly dissolve the shame
And release the spell of what you called satan's sick game.
You were just a child, you were not at fault and in no way to blame.
But now a young adult you can choose to break the chain.
The evils of your childhood was not your sin
Though others tried to blame you time and time again.
Look around the candles' light, you have new nonjudgemental friends
The past cannot be changed, but thank God your tommorrows can!!!
by: Linda Blair-Mounce
Here is a neat scripture to share with someone you know has been abused by a parent:
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. --Isaiah 49:15-16.
They are idols of hearts and of households
They are angels of God in disguise;
The sunlight that sleeps in their tresses.
His glory still gleams in their eyes;
These truants from home and from Heaven,
They have made me more manly and mild;
And I know now how Jesus could liken
The kingdom of God to a child.
-by Charles Monroe Dickinson-
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers:
for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
Hebrews 13:2
Whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer
believing, ye shall receive.
Matthew 21:22
