Arise Against Abuse

Some of the poems and writings you'll find on this Squidoo lens have been previously published online in writing forums and on my website and blogs, so some of you may have read them before. However, I feel all contain messages that cannot be shared often enough and there may be someone out there somewhere who needs to see this now in order to arise against abuse.

Without a doubt, I will be adding to this lens on a regular basis. I've a feeling, however, that it will be a bit at a time, as the memories of the many abuses I've suffered and witnessed ... well, sometimes when revisiting the events, I revisit the emotions, and I am overwhelmed by emotional exhaustion.

Please do not remove anything from this lens, graphics or writings, without my written permission. Thank you!

October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month (USA).

On this day, I felt there no better way to describe my own experiences as a victim and survivor of abuse and domestic violence than to share with you the quote (above) from Congreve and the poetic thoughts it evoked in me:

Heaven Has No Rage and Hell Has No Fury,
Like That of The Abused
©2011 Ruth Cox

Muffs, serve to deafen
Vile voices red with rage.

Hands, taut to terror
Bow downward, brace the fall.

Tears, flood to wash 'way
The body black and blue.

Winds, blow to senseless
The foulness in cold blood.

Screams, pain to smother
All havoc hell hath wrought.

Dogwood Dreams
by Ruth Cox

One of your favorite places in the world to be
Was seated 'neath a blossoming dogwood tree
Amid the fluttering sounds of butterfly wings
Carried along on the tune your broken heart sings.

Lying upon a blanket of velvety grass so green
Visions of being treated with homage due a queen
Dreams of a life of luxury and sweet romance
Hidden in the corners of your mind daintily dance.

With black billowing clouds reality returns
Low in the belly a familiar stomach ache churns
Suddenly a force strikes from somewhere outside
From blows to your head you could no longer hide.

Deep down inside your hurting heart screams
Begging to be encircled in delightful daydreams.
You hear the voices of loved ones cry out in vain
Pleading for an end to your suffering and pain.

One wish would be granted on this cold wintry day
Never again to feel emptiness as you kneel to pray
Under the odor of alcohol your pain would now cease
Embraced in His arms your soul forever at peace.

Filled with hatred for this man who killed his wife
How do your children go on without Mom in their life?
The path each would travel in order to endure
Oft' a journey of winding roads not always so pure.

Each must grasp upon a sturdy branch of your tree
Remembering that the good in all you did see.
The strength of your spirit within us we travel not alone
With wishes of joining you alongside Heaven's throne.

We hear your voice in the twinkling of the stars
Your spirit tightly held in each heart of ours.
One of our favorite places in the world is to be
Engulfed in dreams 'neath a blossoming dogwood tree.

Just Say NO to Black and Blue and Blood by abitosunshine
Begin selling my posters for free with Zazzle.

I suggest you add a standard black frame to this print...

Dedicated to the cries of the abused children of the world.

Cry Of The Child
by Ruth Cox

Hear my plea:
Abuse awareness is the key.
Can't you see
How alcohol is hurting me?

Born of the womb of fetal alcohol
Oh sure, to sleep I would quietly lull
Then bye and bye
This child would cry
Symptoms of the syndrome leaving me null.

Hear my plea:
Abuse awareness is the key.
Can't you see
How the shaking is hurting me?

I crave attention so despondently
You pick me up oh so impatiently
Then with such force
Rock back and forth
Shaking my little head so vigorously.

Hear my plea:
Abuse awareness is the key.
Can't you see
How hitting momma is hurting me?

I hear her scream in the wee hours of night
Dreams interrupted by her woeful plight
Love you renege
Wish I were big
Armed in chivalry I'd be her white knight.

Hear my plea:
Abuse awareness is the key.
Can't you see
How your foul language is hurting me?

You strike in disgust with words to offend
To hurt my feelings is what you intend
Hands to my ears
To squelch the fears
The bullying seems to be without end.

Hear my plea:
Abuse awareness is the key.
Can't you see
How unwanted sex is hurting me?

Touched in ways that I know are forbidden
Lying alone and feeling guilt-ridden
You plucked my fruit
Leaving me mute
Incest is taboo and must be hidden.

Hear my plea:
Abuse awareness is the key.
Can't you see
How physical harm is hurting me?

In the midst of dodging your sticks and stones
I've quite a collection of broken bones
Snap, crackle, pop
A limb goes flop
Truth of my injury remains unknown.

Hear my plea:
Abuse awareness is the key.
Can't you see
How threat to a pet is hurting me?

You gave me a puppy, I thought with love
But now you use him as a boxing glove
To me you yell
I dare not tell
You'll send him to doggie heaven above.

Hear my plea:
Abuse awareness is the key.
Can't you see
How lack of due care is hurting me?

You neglect to treat me with love and care
The shelves in the kitchen cupboards are bare
My tummy aches
My heart does too
To fill my needs I bow my head in prayer.

Hear my plea:
Abuse awareness is the key.
Can't you see?
Cry of the child is hurting you and me.

Child Abuse Handprint by fightcancertees
Create custom poster at Zazzle

Immersion
by Ruth Cox

I jerk back the shower curtain

as I force the knob to feed full blast.

Piping hot water pours into the porcelain tub

as I remove the tattered shreds from my torn skin.



I slip into the water...

to scald the remains from my weakened flesh.

You violated my body with your sickening stench.



I drain the tub, refill it, slip into it once again...

to flush the raging visions from my head.

You molested my sanity with your vicious vulgarity.



I drain the tub, refill it, slip into it once again...

to cleanse the blood dripping from my spirit.

You pierced my heart with your blade.



I drain the tub, refill it, slip into it once again...

to defy the repitition of the hellish torture.

You demanded I yield to the blows of your battering ram.



I drain the tub, refill it, slip into it once again...

to soak droplets of venom falling from my eyes.

You shot your poison within me.



I drain the tub, refill it, slip into it once again...

to avenge the agony of life and limb.

You defiled every cell of my being with your demonic desire.



I drain the tub, refill it, slip into it once again...

to drench the darkness into light.

You stole my very soul.



Seven baths have not rid me of you...

Seven days, seven months, nor seven years shall rid me of you.

Seven decades might rid me of you...

By then I may have died.

Semper Fi
Buy This Allposters.com

Freedom Rings
by Ruth Cox

The best she can recall, Annie was nine or ten years of age when the incident occurred. It is the only vivid memory she allows herself of Rodney, her step-brother, her big brother.

In the red, black, and blue aftermath of an episode of domestic violence and family abuse, a young Marine rose in his dress blues to stand up for his stepmother against his abusive father. Then he somberly marched beyond the slam of the door to return nevermore.

Decades later, Annie dialed a telephone number she hoped would breach the distance of their past. Rodney answered. Annie identified herself and the purpose of her search for him. She was planning a family reunion and wanted him there, "You are my brother, after all."

Silence.

She shared with him her memory of her brother, the Marine. She shared with him all her memory meant to her, then and now. Most importantly, Annie said, "That day, I forgave you all that came before, Rodney."

He gasped, "I forgive, too." Rodney had little to say, but with his few words he uttered a heart full. "I walked out on that life, that family, that day. I've no wish nor reason to return."

Freedom rings ... forevermore.

One of the tragedies of my Mother's death by the hands of her husband is a horror reflected in how far-reaching the direct affect her death had on so many. It destroyed a family, and in so many different ways.

Estranged
by Ruth Cox

Our years, the stolen consequence; our fears

Whimpering to a lower place, beneath

The reign of twilight terror; deranged

Error of familial desire; set

Afire amidst violent domesticity, brutal

Suppression of sibling spirit; unholy

The scourge of daylight destruction; estranged

Whisperings to a higher place, above

Our tears, the given consequence; our years:

Death of a family.

I knew when my Scratchy Sunshine died that I'd do something special with her and giving her a voice to speak against abuse was an easy choice since she had suffered such.

I am Scratch...

I now reside in a heaven of sorts; an animal haven, free from all earthly things; running through meadow and forest with furry friends that abound. Like many, I died of natural causes, an illness; some crossed over into this world due to accidental death; some arrived here due to the demon of domestic violence. It is this demon that I wish to bow-wow about with you now.

I will begin with my own personal story, for I believe that having been a victim of domestic violence calls for me to be a voice against said demon. I have chosen to stand against domestic violence.

Taking a stand against anything is not always easy for me and is sometimes quite painful, physically and emotionally. For I live with an injury, a lame leg, as a direct result of the horrors of domestic violence. And the memories of emotional abuse for me and my Mothers (Tidbit and Sunshine) follow me everywhere I go.

I remember Him kicking me away when I would beg for his attention. I remember him doing same to my mothers. I remember licking Tidbit's wounds when she would take a beating meant for Sunshine. Yes, my mothers seemed to take turns trying to spare each other the violence, to no avail; life became the horrors of hell.

One cold dark night, my human mother, Sunshine, had to leave me and my canine mother, Tidbit, for her own physical safety. She had lived for a few years with a spouse who controlled her verbally, financially, emotionally, and finally, physically. One day the abuse became so extreme that she felt fear for her life and felt she had no choice but to leave. Unfortunately, she could find no way of doing so while taking her canine family with her. So, in the darkness of a cold winter night, Sunshine was gone.

Make no mistake -- Sunshine loved me, loved Tidbit, but there comes a time when human life must be deemed more important than animal life -- this was one such time. I knew if there had been any other way ... I wished her Godspeed.

Not long after Sunshine left us, her abuser became our abuser. He turned us loose into the surrounding woods to fend for ourselves, at the mercy of the elements, as well as the wild dogs of the wood. We scavenged for food and shelter while the wild pack of dogs ravaged Tidbit, impregnating her against her futile attempts to fend them off. And I ... I would hear Him carelessly speeding up the winding driveway and I would run to the clearing and wag my tail to greet him, only to be chased back into the darkness.

One such time, in the wee hours of a morning, as I chased him down, he hit me with his pick-up truck. He did take me to a vet, but when the vet told him the cost to save my leg and heal my other injuries, he chose to take me back to the wood; beer in his hand and beer in his belly.

Seemingly forever, but only a few months later, Sunshine sent others to rescue us from Him and the wild of the woods. You can read more about and see photos of our rescue on the Sunshine Girls lens.

Ah! Spring, a time of renewal and reuniting with Sunshine -- on Mother's Day, no less! Both Tidbit and I received the best medical care possible; me regaining seventy-five percent use of my leg, though I limped along to my natural death and felt the ache of bones with every breath; and Tidbit, she gave birth to a litter of wild ones, our rescuers keeping one and naming her NewBe -- for New Beginnings. And life was good.

Now, here in this animal haven, I have met many with domestic violence tales of their own. One tabby cat tells the tale of my Mother Sunshine when she was but a decade old. As Tabby's story goes, Sunshine and her siblings witnessed their daddy throw Tabby into the campfire. He made them listen to the yowling and watch as orange burnt unto black, all the while threatening them with same if they dared tell anyone of the horrors of their house happenings.

Yes, the demons of domestic violence blackened Sunshine even in her childhood. I've met the turtles of the creek, hooked for food, who bore witness to Sunshine being ravaged in the wood by her older step-sibling, repeating only that which he had witnessed his daddy doing to her for years gone before. I've met Satan, the jet black shepherd, shot for daring to protect Sunshine's mother from her husband when he was beating her.

I have met Kitten, whose brain burst forth in blood from being beaten by the hand of Man who threatened Sunshine's Mother with same death as the kitten if her child dared pick up the phone again in a plea to police. Four years later the deed would be done -- by the hands of Man her mother was beaten to death.

I've met Duck and her Ducklings, drowned in a washtub of water, for no apparent reason, other than a child showing no respect for the life of others; emulating his daddy. I've met the Bad Dogs who were bred to maul and to fight; not for right, just with their might; but never, not once, bite the abuser's hand, lest they be found bludgeoned to an untimely and demonic death in turn.

The animal kingdom sees all, hears all; bears witness to the demon of domestic violence. And now, from our safe haven, we speak all as we take our stand against domestic violence.

We are here to warn you that animal abuse is a part of domestic violence. Cruelty to a pet is family abuse. Using a pet, any animal, as a pawn to control a child, to control anyone, is a form of animal cruelty, and thus, it is domestic violence.

I am Scratch. And I beg of you ... Stand Against Domestic Violence!

You would think that having lived a childhood of abuse of all forms that I would have chosen not to live same as an adult. Not so. I found myself in one abusive relationship after another. At first, I convinced myself I was not like my mother, in that I suffered no physical abuse. Again, not true. One dark day I found myself deep in the throes of the domestic violence demon, realizing with that first act of physical abuse that I was my mother's daughter and I was following in her footprints.

Eventually, I feared my end may one day come about in the same abusive fashion had my mother's end. One day, I whispered my anger and my pain unto the sky, "Are you proud of me now, Mom?" And that night ... I took flight. I made the choice to leave my life of abuse.

In August of 2010, I responded to a writing prompt at Gather. I was to write two contrasting paragraphs followed by one sentence of dialogue portraying what my character might say in the situation. I share my submission with you below.

Life or Death Choices
by Ruth Cox

Her breath succumbed to an all-too-familiar slumber, sucked up in a vacuum of fear. Beneath the comforter her body writhed in discomfort as she listened to the sounds on the other side of the locked door. She heard the bump as his body came to rest upon the solid wood, unlike her unrest inside. She heard the strike of metal against metal as he fumbled to force the key in the turn of the lock. When he crossed the room in his drunken rage, she dampened her desire to scream, enfolding her breath in a prayer, as he knocked her off the sofa. Once again she flew into his abusive air, her landing cushioned only by the locks of her flaming hair.

She whispered her query in an exhale of fear of death as she flew to the floor, "When will you take full responsibility for allowing yourself to abuse me and when will it end?"

Same scenario; different dialogue:

She whispered her statement in an exhale of lust of life as she flew out the door, "I now take full responsibility for allowing you to abuse me and now it shall end."

Freedom Footprints by abitosunshine
Learn how to sell my posters online at Zazzle.

ARISE AGAINST ABUSE
by Ruth Cox

Held in heart and hand is power to take a stand

To warm and wipe the cries of blackened blue eyes.

Rise, the wrong to right. For children, a ray of light

Can draw away the dark, enabling spirit spark.

Time is here and now the mighty to take a vow

To accept no excuse -- ARISE AGAINST ABUSE

To read Mandela's foreward in its entirety, visit WHO/World Health Organization.

There are angels in our midst here at Squidoo!
They visit our lenses and bless them, too!



This lens has been Blessed by the following Squidoo Angels:
6/10/11 SquidAngel MsSnow4a
6/12/11 SquidAngel darciefrench
6/25/11 SquidAngel Tipi
12/1/11 SquidAngel mbrownauthor
12/1/11 SquidAngel crosscreations
12/1/11 SquidAngel Frischy
12/1/11 SquidAngel lisakleinweber
12/2/11 SquidAngel Heather426
12/2/11 SquidAngel pkmcr
12/3/11 SquidAngel termit_bronx
12/3/11 SquidAngel ---Chazz
12/11/11 SquidAngel squidoopets
12/23/11 SquidAngel snazzify
1/1/12 SquidAngel kathysart
1/15/12 SquidAngel wordstock
1/16/12 SquidAngel ravenko
1/18/12 SquidAngel PositiveChristian
1/31/12 SquidAngel vbright105
2/9/12 SquidAngel GramaBarb
2/10/12 SquidAngel Janiece
2/10/12 SquidAngel vanidiana
2/10/12 SquidAngel charlino
2/13/12 SquidAngel Ramkitten
2/13/12 SquidAngel Joan4
2/13/12 SquidAngel stargazer00
2/16/12 SquidAngel goo2eyes
2/19/12 SquidAngel RenaissanceWoman2010
2/20/12 SquidAngel ColorPetGifts
2/20/12 SquidAngel jptanabe
2/21/12 SquidAngel JJNW
2/22/12 SquidAngel andreaberrios
2/26/12 SquidAngel Steve_Kaye
3/6/12 SquidAngel Pantherart
3/7/12 SquidAngel AlleyCatLane
3/9/12 SquidAngel KimGiancaterino
3/10/12 SquidAngel aesta1
3/11/12 SquidAngel TheLifestyleChanger
3/18/12 SquidAngel daria369
3/25/12 SquidAngel JaguarJulie
4/3/12 SquidAngel LizMac60
4/20/12 SquidAngel ShirlW
4/24/12 SquidAngel hotbrain
5/8/12 SquidAngel ResearchAddict