STICKS and STONES by Topaz Winters

One’s dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered. ― Michael J. Fox

“I sometimes pretend I’m a Phoenix” – Topaz Winters, from Sticks and Stones

 

It’s my pleasure to bring you another poem submitted by Topaz Winters. Her poem takes us inside the maelstrom of a wounded spirit stuck between feeling the reality of unrelenting anguish from abuse, trauma, abandonment, and the dream of love and life as first imagined. The journey to healing is never swift or without setbacks captured in the line, “I sometimes pretend I’m a phoenix.” Topaz’s advocacy for survivors and awareness is greatly appreciated.  Topaz offered her poem as a tribute to the readers and authors that know abuse and trauma all too well. Thank you for your continued support, Topaz.  And now, dear reader, I submit to you, Sticks and Stones by Topaz Winters.

LITTLE CREEK

Love is an untamed force. When we try to control it, it destroys us. When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us. When we try to understand it, it leaves us feeling lost and confused. ― Paulo Coelho

Love is an untamed force.  Indeed.  I’ve spent a lifetime trying to understand it and in the end realized that the torture of asking why, what if, and if only served to deepen the wounds of memories whose sharp rusted edges tear and bruise one’s heart and spirit each moment they live above the surface of that restive cauldron that never cools.  I’ve realized that it’s the mind that eventually falters and in time the pitted patina of our youthful losses fade into a gray-blue surreal scene with black edges and dark contrasts.  Peace comes when the mind hears and no longer recognizes the sound of that first anguished cry.  

The End of War

This is a repost of a chapter from one of my short stories.  It wasn’t very popular as far as likes, comments or views. It seems counter intuitive to beat that old dead horse again here.  I replay it because much is said about post traumatic stress disorder in service members but it’s not well understood by the public.  It can manifest years after the event as the memories suddenly drift in like a cold breeze through a forgotten open door.  Internal dialog of scenes long forgotten play out when and wherever they will – triggered by a thought, sound, a vision, a taste or smell.

Wall of Masks

“Words dazzle and deceive because they are mimed by the face.

But black words on a white page are the soul laid bare.” ― Guy de Maupassant

Based on original image from Associated Press 2011

Wall of Masks

The words fell naked from her face,

So proud to run a single race,

Alone each mile at her own pace.

A smile and eyes glistened red in light,

Each mask she wore slipped on skin tight,

And all their hues and colors were right.

They played all summer in heat and sun,

And all the friends were there for fun,

But for her the task was to pick which one,

To fall as prey to her sick game.

All rued the day they learned her name.

They came for joy, she gave them blame,

They drank those words to slack their thirst,

They drank until their minds near burst,

The lacy toxins only made it worse.

In their heart the seeds of hate,

Grew like weeds in the lake,

And when they knew, it was too late,

To erase the words their hearts now felt.

Words fell on backs like leather belts,

until bowed and on their knees they knelt.

She stood victorious all alone,

The sun set, there was no one.

She cries out loud but no one comes.

She taunts her masks with naked face,

And screams the words that set her pace,

To run for life in a single race,

Alone with all her masks of hate.

Things Unseen

“In imagination she sailed over storied seas that wash the distant shining shores of faëry lands forlorn, where lost Atlantis and Elysium lie, with the evening star for pilot, to the land of Heart’s Desire. And she was richer in those dreams than in realities; for things seen pass away, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”  ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island

Castle Walls

CASTLE WALLS

“Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.”

― Joseph Campbell

 

Juron felt safe in his castle. He was of noble stock, the ruler of his domain – a population of one soul complete with body. Juron and his two aether-friends lived a carefree life. They roamed about the castle of their own free will. Juron’s imagination and shadow played gleefully but never too far away from him. The freedom to choose where he would go and what room he would visit gave him a sense of the explorer’s wonder.

Dreams or illusions

a beautiful

distraction

these

soft images

as unreal

as the thoughts

that fuel them

illusions

a mind creates

as a means

to survive

while reality

hangs loosely

in the background

like an

annoying hum

**

How much easier it would be to live in a dream of your own creation.

Wait, maybe we already do? 😉

Starr©