I have been reading the postings on the NOMSV discussion board and have been getting a lot of help from them. Until recent months, I didn't think the incest was such a big deal, because the other abuses were so ominous. But I am learning otherwise. Here is my story in the form of a poem. If it strikes a chord with you, I'd love to know. Thanks.

All those flavors, how shall we choose?
I was 6 and we lined up for ice cream
I'll taste the drop of banana that got loose
A good deed I've done! Tastes like a dream!

Was about to report how good was its taste
for my family to order, if they chose
Next thing I knew, his hand slapping my face
Felt the harsh sting, felt myself froze

I drew on the wall with chalk--it erases
Didn't know it was wrong at all
He lined us all up, our scared little faces
"Who did it?" he screamed in the hall

Scared and defenseless we all took our turns
to deny we had part in the deed
"I didn't do it" we said one by one
Just his eyes could cause me to bleed

"Rick!" he yelled with rage and with force
as he tightened his lips very thin
Off came his belt, I felt sudden remorse
Daddy please! no! I won't do it again!

Time to be bathed my younger sister and I
It was his job each night before bed
I'm circumcised, so I don't know why
He had to clean, rub, squeeze till it got red

While it happened I floated up in the air
Though my body was still in the bath
While his hand had hold, his scary eyes stare
If I don't move then I won't get his wrath

Feel myself tingle, don't know what it means
Nothing made sense at home
Get picked on in school,don't want to be seen
I only feel safe when alone

Am I a boy or am I a girl
The kids would tease me all day
What shall I do so your wrath won't unfurl?
Nothing--just take it--must be gay

All these years later feel lonely and sad
Though outside no one can tell
Need to be loved by me, to cry and get mad
To fully heal from that hell

Will you love me as well?

Rick,

Thank you for sharing here. So sorry about the pain you had as a child. Hope your journey to healing is assisted by those of us here. Your poem has help me on my journey.

Thank you

Ken

Tough poem – early memories are hard stuff,

Was reflecting on the following:

While it happened I floated up in the air
Though my body was still in the bath

It must have been how I felt getting changed – fondled – don't have a lot of memories of back then but I am sure I must have disassociated like that – I could sure do it when I was older – at school all the time – never felt like I was there even and at home – at home had no memory of the arguments and upset that was going on around me – (my brother recently recounted his memories – to my surprise – and then I related to him the drinking she did of which he had no memory) – think it explains my inability to deal with upset – especially from a woman – I shut down and feel shame –

The feeling of not belonging is so strong – still is – as well as the hyper vigilance of a scared little kid -

Thanks for this poem -

Rick---this poem is well written and touches a cord with me. Its much more "sweeping" than the last one I read, and it moves rapidly from event to event. You're a good writer. Your emotion is carried through the images you create; or are they memories--the ice cream, the bath, and all of the rest. I could almost taste that banana drop and I felt the "sting" of the slap. It is all too familiar--different circumstances, but the same sense of loss. Thanks, Rick, this opened some new thoughts and recollections for me--how many of those small events still remain deep within us. Tom

Rick -- I like your poem, it was hard to read about him touching you in the bath.