“We look back on history and what do we see?” M. Muggeridge
I see a mother ripped away from her children and raped for a visitation fee. I see a child taken from her mom while she not yet three. I see her and her siblings put in a boarding home where she was physically beaten and used as a human drying rack for the urine soaked sheets that she accidentally wet at night. I see where she was fed dinner with the dog — because even the dog did the bathroom right. I see where she was thrown out naked in the snowbank screaming because she would not sit under the wet sheets again. I see her brother who tried to save her. I see that she was was four. I see he was five. I see they are still alive.
“The depravity of man is at once the most empirically verifiable reality…”
I see when he brought home another woman. I see that she was cruel. I see she denuded the girls. I see she starved and spurned the children. I see a bit of torture too. I see a pedophile and a woman who was jealous of the children he assaulted. I see that she assaulted them too. I see a home where the older sister was secretly sexually abused. I see the family moved from home to home because the father was underemployed and over drunk and didn’t pay the rent. I see a little girl hiding under bed and and bounced off of walls.
I see the vulnerable children who remained in the home after the father was incarcerated for raping the sister starting at four years old. I see he came back. I see him blame the child. I see she “wanted to be sexed.” I see him salivate for the next.
“There is no such things as darkness, only a failure to see.” M. Muggeridge
I see a girl who grew and dragged herself through school. I see where she was half starved and stole for food. I see she was locked out of the house and quenched her thirst from the ditch. I see the woman was a bitch. I see she took her first job at eleven. I see what was stolen at fifteen. I see her accommodating everyone. I see her waking up more than once in an ice cold bath from being beaten half to death.
I see hands that should have protected — but pulverized.
I see those that should have fed — but ate.
I see fingers that were folded in prayer — but preyed.
I see she stayed.
I see she lost her no a long time ago.
I see she had no where to go.
I see her alcoholic father destroyed places and people with impunity. I see her in a court room with multiple accused and watch them go free. I see her leave home to meet the mother she never knew and still doesn’t. I see her repeatedly trust the untrustworthy and believe the untrue. I see her blamed for things she didn’t do and didn’t even know could be done. I see she married young. I see her mother without one. I see she tried and still does. I see her preyed on time and again. I see her begin to see. I see the torrents of tears, terror, and trauma. I see her drown and come for air again. I see her seek and thought she found. I see her try to find higher ground.
“I beg you to believe that life is not a process, it’s a drama.”
I see she sought the sacred. I see that the sacred sexualised her too. I see her filleted by the “faithful” and called faithless for it. I see her half dead and blamed for bleeding on the red carpet reputation of the ones who ruined her. I see her slaughtered, sued, and silenced. I see the catatonic paralysing pain. I see the cost of counselling. I see her brave. I see her slow crawl out of the trenches of trauma. I see her rise. I see her commitment to truth, her care for her family, her fellows, and her friends. I see her resilience not just her ruin. I see her husband. I see they love each other. I see her children. I see her and I see hope.
“Learning from experience means, in practice, learning from suffering; the only schoolmaster.”