HAVE YOU GOT A LIGHT?
I was seven on the day, my uncle asked me to play.
He asked if I’d like to have a toy fight.
The dirty old bastard, he stole my light.
Be a good boy and you’ll go to heaven.
What did I know, I was only seven.
I asked him to stop it. I felt strange.
He reached into his pocket and threw me some change.
“Everyone does it. It’s always been done, but all the same you mustn’t tell anyone.”
I don’t remember the details of what went on that night,
But many years on I can see it was then I began losing my light.
It happened for more years than I care to admit.
For my part in all this, I will always feel shit.
For years I would ask him, “Are you sure this is right?”
“Of course it is,” he’d say. He didn’t care about my light.
One summer’s day, messing in the park
I was with a mate, you know, just having a lark.
“Does your uncle wank you off?” I said.
“No, that’s queer!” He moved away. I felt myself going red.
“Does yours?” he asked, straining to hear.
I gave him a dead leg, “fuck off,” I laughed! “I’m no queer.”
Come six o’clock we’re both tired and rotten,
I’ still wonder if that conversation is forgotten.
And yet my uncle still persisted with his claim.
“Come on,” he’d say. “It’s harmless fun. Let’s have another game.”
I WAS DYING. WHY COULDN’T YOU SEE?
I was full of nervous twitches, YOU SHOULD HAVE RESCUED ME!
I wonder if he knew that it would affect me to this day.
Or did he even care? As long as he could play.
It’s totally destroyed my life, that’s why this poem I will not sign.
Life is frightening enough when your sanity’s on the line.
I sometimes feel I’m loosing it, I’m loosing control.
There’s blackness in my heart, in my mind and in my soul.
I’ve been in touch with therapists looking for a light,
But do you know what? Some of them are full of shite!
Because, you see, they are not funded to help a little lad of thirty-two,
So they give you a few numbers, tell you not to give up hope, but there’s nothing they can do.
I tried hypnotherapy, meditation too.
To find my light, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.
Then there’s religion, I try with all that I am to believe in God and heaven,
But that’s not easy, not for me, Not since I was seven.
Should I have written this poem?
Please don’t judge me wrong or right.
But the little lad who is with me always thought it might help to find his light.
Hi Thank You for sharing this. Your search to rediscover your light reminded me of a touching story I heard a few years ago which I’ve pasted below. I wish you well on your journey
The Given Light
Barbara Hug
Once upon a time a man had heard, that in a foreign place, far away, there was a holy flame burning.
So he got up and left his home to find the holy flame and bring some of its light back home to his house. He thought: ‘When I have this light, then I will have happiness and life and all the people I love will have it too.’He travelled far, far away and finally found the holy flame, with which he lit his light.
On his way back he had only one worry: ‘That his light could go out.’On his way home he met someone who was freezing and didn’t have any fire and who begged him to give him some of his fire. The man with the light hesitated for a moment. Wasn’t his light too precious, too holy to be given away for something ordinary like that?
Despite these doubts, he decided to give some of his light to the one who was freezing in the darkness.The man continued his journey home and when he had almost reached his house a terrible thunderstorm started. He tried to protect his light from the rain and the storm, but at the end his light went out.
To return the long way back to the place where the holy flame was burning was impossible, he wouldn’t have had enough strength to go back this far – but he was strong enough to return to the human being whom he had helped on his way home……….and with his light he could light his own again.
Such a beautiful poem, thank you so much for sharing. IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT
you are not your addiction, you are not your mind, you are not your thoughts
as I have heard. Your words were simply spell-binding. I hope you heal
in the most incredible, life-enduring way. Just reading this went some
way to mend my shattered, downtrodden heart.
Much appreciation and Love to you friend.
I hope you are finding your light. Please know you are not alone. My godfather was the stealer of my 7 year old light. Everyday I get a little closer to forgiving myself (& him) & loving me. It was not our fault. I loved your poem. I can understand your journey as I am on it as well. I wish you blue skies & sunny days for your 7 yr old self you may feel like you failed. I’m here to tell you you lived, & you deserve blue skies & sunny days as well…