For My Pat - A Childhood Prayer
We all have a "little friend" when we are children - often ourselves as we make up for the loneliness of abandonment by parents, and have no real friendships.
We whisper to our playmate as we pretend we have a friend in this world.
My poem is such a poem, written to myself, my only best friend as a child.
My only best friend as an adult is still me, and I still write the poems of childhood with my childhood prayers.
"For My Pat, A Childhood Prayer" is written about this.
Many children are beaten for whispering to themselves, and it is wise to be sensitive to the loneliness many children feel as abused people, causing them to whisper to themselves, with a sense of urgency.
I also tackle the undiscussed "soul split" prevalent in the United States, and my triumph over such ritual societal torture that nearly always results in death.
For My Pat A Childhood Prayer I told you I will kill them with my candles, I will kill them with the light from my candles or with my spiritual cats in my prayers I will kill them for hurting you, my best friend my Mother, my Lover from childhood's dark closets speaking about secrets while huddled in the darkness whispering among the shoes this made you feel better much better as we sat together as One the closet was the only place I could sit with You the only place I had it was on the floor crowded with shoes with You I have gone back over the years to try to fit into a closet again to find you while crowded with dirty shoes I used to weep in the darkness alone my body scrunched up too big now but unable to give up my Searchlight my Crime Spotlight to find you I cannot relinquish childhood without you, my Lover my Best Friend My Real Face missing in my life missing in action MIA I never believed you were dead but tortured You said in the darkness of childhood or was it the brightness or both? I will kill them with the light from my candles they threatened you for speaking for speaking as a child I will stop them from hurting you My Love.
My Lover.
My Mother.
My Best and Only Friend.
For My Pat - I came back from death into my own Arms Yours I am the Air I am the Unspoken I AM YOU YOUR BEST FRIEND your Lost Breath Found in your arms at last again never to leave you alone writing poems in the darkness without Me I sat on my lap as a child amongst my old shoes in the closet they had driven me up on the electric wires again with a strange cold accusing man calling me here kitty kitty kitty deriding me holding a large bag far down beneath me with spanking hands raised up to assault while doves watched in terror with me afterward I sat here in the darkness again and I loved my own self even though no one else did (telling them including him the frigid man to go to hell) GO TO HELL I said to the soul splitters only I can heal the soul tear in me it's a tearing it is my soul they assaulted so brutally but it is me speaking now It is I my Love is speaking My Best Friend My Only Lover My Love My Self come back in Pain to me It is I, I said urgently to me when I escaped back to My Self They have killed me again you said when I was small I will heal you if it happens again I still promise that I will rescue you - my Best Love = from danger I will carry you in My Arms as a Pieta holding on to life onto me holding onto my arms your head near my breasts and shoulders as I walk off the torture stage carrying My Best Beloved Friend to safety with Me I will nurture you until you are once again in the FRONT OF MY FACE I will protect you forever I live to protect My Best Self My Soul.
Now I protect my Woman Self My Genius My Lost Genius Self in the Sunlight not the dark closet although I grew up in the closet talking in the darkness, too I was crushed seasonally publicly by the Nazi Party for years recently some Democrats participated again although I have been a member of the Democratic Party for over ten years it never matters what I do or have done never matters to the Republicans even the Independents even the black ones it doesn't matter what I do As I sit among the old shoes holding myself - fractured there is little Triumph in the United States (not really morally in the Americas any longer) there is little Triumph beyond Surviving and Leaving the soul splitters I am one of the musicians a fellow cricket and cicada singing a steady rhythm in the dark night where most of the time - anything goes and does go I was a small dancer once not really that little and now I am Big a Woman Finally but they came back to do it again the soul splitters from my childhood I was forced to cover my child's vagina and/or butthole to some though now older now avoiding terrible threats while my squirrel outside talks and warns my raven approaches and the cicada builds as I try to leave this country with agony streets and horror-filled dirt under the starving frightening plants I have been on both sides of the window and you are now on both sides too feeling much pain shut outside in the frigid winter for years as I reach for you homeless I am a geologist and I slowly break the windowpane separating me from you, like a skilled surgeon so the breaking artificial glass pieces and sharp glass shards forced in you through torture and lies will not cut you as some are imbedded but not hidden from me or my geologist's tool and my the light on my miner's hat do not be afraid as I approach to rescue you my rage is not ever at you My Love but at your (my) ritual degraders and confidence thieves tea thieves and literature and music thieves thieves of my child's body as well You said you needed to touch my skin it is your skin and I needed to feel You touching me I could not live without This I needed to touch your skin I needed to feel the bliss of being you being with you and touching you my only relief is You my Soul my own Skin I am Breathing Alive Resting Alive I am in and on top of my Waking Place my soft quilt my soft comforter my mother waiting for me and resting with Me my only Bliss is Resting with You I was MISSING IN THE AIR MIA you were holding my place for me with my old bookmarks from childhood and I found you my skin is still alive not dead never to leave you alone again waiting for the assaults to come from everywhere waiting until you found me so I would not be lost in the air without you My Love My Lover My Best and Only Friend.
I have found you never to lose you again until the end of time the end of the universe I am holding you my feminism IS just for you THE FEMINIST THEORY IS my INTELLECTUAL PRODUCT it was always my writing in childhood THE UTOPIA WRITINGS TOO ARE MINE IT IS ALL MINE NOW I am in the front of my face and I stand in the back with myself, too.
1995-2010 Patricia McGurk Martin
We whisper to our playmate as we pretend we have a friend in this world.
My poem is such a poem, written to myself, my only best friend as a child.
My only best friend as an adult is still me, and I still write the poems of childhood with my childhood prayers.
"For My Pat, A Childhood Prayer" is written about this.
Many children are beaten for whispering to themselves, and it is wise to be sensitive to the loneliness many children feel as abused people, causing them to whisper to themselves, with a sense of urgency.
I also tackle the undiscussed "soul split" prevalent in the United States, and my triumph over such ritual societal torture that nearly always results in death.
For My Pat A Childhood Prayer I told you I will kill them with my candles, I will kill them with the light from my candles or with my spiritual cats in my prayers I will kill them for hurting you, my best friend my Mother, my Lover from childhood's dark closets speaking about secrets while huddled in the darkness whispering among the shoes this made you feel better much better as we sat together as One the closet was the only place I could sit with You the only place I had it was on the floor crowded with shoes with You I have gone back over the years to try to fit into a closet again to find you while crowded with dirty shoes I used to weep in the darkness alone my body scrunched up too big now but unable to give up my Searchlight my Crime Spotlight to find you I cannot relinquish childhood without you, my Lover my Best Friend My Real Face missing in my life missing in action MIA I never believed you were dead but tortured You said in the darkness of childhood or was it the brightness or both? I will kill them with the light from my candles they threatened you for speaking for speaking as a child I will stop them from hurting you My Love.
My Lover.
My Mother.
My Best and Only Friend.
For My Pat - I came back from death into my own Arms Yours I am the Air I am the Unspoken I AM YOU YOUR BEST FRIEND your Lost Breath Found in your arms at last again never to leave you alone writing poems in the darkness without Me I sat on my lap as a child amongst my old shoes in the closet they had driven me up on the electric wires again with a strange cold accusing man calling me here kitty kitty kitty deriding me holding a large bag far down beneath me with spanking hands raised up to assault while doves watched in terror with me afterward I sat here in the darkness again and I loved my own self even though no one else did (telling them including him the frigid man to go to hell) GO TO HELL I said to the soul splitters only I can heal the soul tear in me it's a tearing it is my soul they assaulted so brutally but it is me speaking now It is I my Love is speaking My Best Friend My Only Lover My Love My Self come back in Pain to me It is I, I said urgently to me when I escaped back to My Self They have killed me again you said when I was small I will heal you if it happens again I still promise that I will rescue you - my Best Love = from danger I will carry you in My Arms as a Pieta holding on to life onto me holding onto my arms your head near my breasts and shoulders as I walk off the torture stage carrying My Best Beloved Friend to safety with Me I will nurture you until you are once again in the FRONT OF MY FACE I will protect you forever I live to protect My Best Self My Soul.
Now I protect my Woman Self My Genius My Lost Genius Self in the Sunlight not the dark closet although I grew up in the closet talking in the darkness, too I was crushed seasonally publicly by the Nazi Party for years recently some Democrats participated again although I have been a member of the Democratic Party for over ten years it never matters what I do or have done never matters to the Republicans even the Independents even the black ones it doesn't matter what I do As I sit among the old shoes holding myself - fractured there is little Triumph in the United States (not really morally in the Americas any longer) there is little Triumph beyond Surviving and Leaving the soul splitters I am one of the musicians a fellow cricket and cicada singing a steady rhythm in the dark night where most of the time - anything goes and does go I was a small dancer once not really that little and now I am Big a Woman Finally but they came back to do it again the soul splitters from my childhood I was forced to cover my child's vagina and/or butthole to some though now older now avoiding terrible threats while my squirrel outside talks and warns my raven approaches and the cicada builds as I try to leave this country with agony streets and horror-filled dirt under the starving frightening plants I have been on both sides of the window and you are now on both sides too feeling much pain shut outside in the frigid winter for years as I reach for you homeless I am a geologist and I slowly break the windowpane separating me from you, like a skilled surgeon so the breaking artificial glass pieces and sharp glass shards forced in you through torture and lies will not cut you as some are imbedded but not hidden from me or my geologist's tool and my the light on my miner's hat do not be afraid as I approach to rescue you my rage is not ever at you My Love but at your (my) ritual degraders and confidence thieves tea thieves and literature and music thieves thieves of my child's body as well You said you needed to touch my skin it is your skin and I needed to feel You touching me I could not live without This I needed to touch your skin I needed to feel the bliss of being you being with you and touching you my only relief is You my Soul my own Skin I am Breathing Alive Resting Alive I am in and on top of my Waking Place my soft quilt my soft comforter my mother waiting for me and resting with Me my only Bliss is Resting with You I was MISSING IN THE AIR MIA you were holding my place for me with my old bookmarks from childhood and I found you my skin is still alive not dead never to leave you alone again waiting for the assaults to come from everywhere waiting until you found me so I would not be lost in the air without you My Love My Lover My Best and Only Friend.
I have found you never to lose you again until the end of time the end of the universe I am holding you my feminism IS just for you THE FEMINIST THEORY IS my INTELLECTUAL PRODUCT it was always my writing in childhood THE UTOPIA WRITINGS TOO ARE MINE IT IS ALL MINE NOW I am in the front of my face and I stand in the back with myself, too.
1995-2010 Patricia McGurk Martin