secrets of the sun - Laira Schmitt - E-Book

secrets of the sun E-Book

Laira Schmitt

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Beschreibung

The book 'secrets of the sun' is a collection of poetry about survival and healing. About the experience of violence, abuse, love and death. It offers insights into the emotional and mental world of those affected. What is it like to live with trauma and its consequences? Each section of the book deals with a different pain. Each section heals a different heartache and serves a different purpose. 'secrets of the sun' takes the reader on a journey through the most bitter moments of life and finds the sweetness in them, because there is sweetness everywhere, if you are willing to look.

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Seitenzahl: 39

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

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Table of Contents

tw: consequences of childhood abuse, neglect

tw: alcoholism, abuse

tw: childhood neglect

tw: eating disorder

tw: childhood abuse

tw: eating disorder

tw: eating disorder

tw: eating disorder, selfharm

tw: consequences of childhood neglect

tw: abuse

tw: abuse

tw: rape

tw: consequences of abuse

tw: abuse

tw: rape

tw: consequences of abuse

tw: consequences of abuse

tw: consequences of abuse

tw: death

tw: death, suicidality

tw: suicidality

tw: consequences of trauma, paranoia

tw: selfharm

First, I found

my words with a pen

in between the lines of pages,

and I realized how much I had to say,

so I dug up the voice I buried long ago

to speak them

What are memories of childhood

if not quicksand?

Swallowing you whole.

The outside of my house is perfect.

The outer walls are painted in

a bright green colour.

The plants that circle its perimeter

are lush with life and vibrancy.

The roof is sloped, yet stable.

The atmosphere it encompasses

is beautiful.

The inside of my house is damaged.

The inner walls are painted

white and hide secrets

beneath their chipped paint.

The staircase creaks in the right places

to alert those either below or above.

The dining room table

is suitable for eight

but never seats one.

The stained-glass window

features a crack

from an object that was not meant to hit it.

The atmosphere it encompasses

is suffocating with secrets.

Outer eyes see its perfection.

Inner eyes see its destruction.

 

- tw: consequences of childhood abuse, neglect -

Childhood is brief

and mine was cut shorter.

An older sister is a mother

when mom can't be home

too busy working,

working, working to the grave for us.

But then I learned

what mom's crying looked like,

learned homework over his yelling,

to keep my pencil steady

as I filled out a multiplication table

despite the tremble of my hand

and that red and blue lights

flashing outside your house at night

can be as common as the stars

when you have a cruel man inside it,

too in love with his bottles.

All these things a child should never learn,

so I learned then to stop being a child.

The problem

with being

brought up

a good christian girl

you learn it's normal

to love a man

who can't say

he loves you

back.

That flicker in his eyes,

the one you thought was love,

turned out to be hell and chaos.

 

- tw: alcoholism, abuse -

From your lips. To your throat.

To your stomach. To your head.

To your words. To your fists.

That is the path the liquid

takes every night.

When you drink it, it makes you powerful.

When you drink it, it makes you angry.

When you drink it, it makes you forget.

When you drink it, it makes me weak.

When you drink it, it makes me empty.

When you drink it, I'll never forget.

You should

never love

anything

more than

you love

your own children.

You should

never love

anyone

more than

you love

your own children.

- How could you?

I am afraid of love

because I have seen

what it has done

to my mother.

It must be so hard

to love the ones

who are

half of him.

My father made

so many mistakes

but he is just human.

How can I not

keep forgiving

the man who is half of

my word weaving brain,

my belief that anything is possible,

my uncontrollable need to be near water.

I saw vulnerability

drip from

my father's eyes

for the first time

when I was twelve.

I learned the

sweet sick balance of

empathy and blame.

Empathy tugs lightly on my sleeve

and gently whispers in my ear,

"they are struggling too".

 

- tw: childhood neglect -

I counted fourteen days

on the calendar in our kitchen.

Two trips to the grocery store.

Two loads of laundry.

Fourteen walks with the dogs.

Nine times the sun woke me up.

Four rainy days

stuck in a house

that was not a

home.

I crossed off the

fourteenth day

on the calendar,

and went

downstairs

to read my

siblings

a book before

bed.

Where are you?

My biggest secret

is the broken house

I know as a home.

My biggest secret

is the destruction

that lies within it.

I don't let the suffocating

secrets slip out of the cracks.

I keep them buried.

I am prepared to keep them

buried for the rest of my life.

My friends think

I am busy on the weekends.

My teachers think

I got lazy with my assignments.

My siblings think

I am their parent.

I think

I am a kid.

You fear the violence