Should You Ever Think of Me

Frenchy

Not too long ago I was talking to an acquaintance and the subject came up of how we really don’t know even the people that are close to us. I called to mind a funeral I did some time back for a friend of mine. This guy was a great big, burly guy with a voice like a gravel truck unloading and a bone crushing grip. In the dictionary under ‘macho’ is his picture. Yet one day I went to visit him at his home and found him on this back porch painting. Not painting the porch but in front of a canvas painting flowers. I was totally taken aback. Who would have ever guessed that this guy who never talked of anything but hunting and fishing and things related to his work (bricklaying) had this tenderness in him and an artistic flair about him. It made me think of just how little we know of the people around us, of who they are and what makes them what they are for good or for bad.
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Should You Ever Think of Me

In anguish and grief I dwell in this body of mine,
In sorrow and pain within this temple I reside
In my mind are the scars of the wars I have waged
My heart bears the marks of battles engaged
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All these things I carry deep inside of me
And hold fast the gates that would set them free
For no one can imagine the tempest inside of me
Or the agony in the heart of the jester they see
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Now and then, every once upon a great and rare time
One will peer over the walls that entomb this world of mine
Only to gasp at the demons and horrors there they see
And their eyes tell me they think they are seeing me.
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It matters not that in desperation them I beseech
To consider the things that battle and war with me
And the toll they have taken upon that which was once me
None will offer a hand so that from this hell I may be free
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So I walk the parapets and guard the granite walls so high
That none may scale their heights, look inside and pry
To see what horrors are wrought upon my heart and see
Only those things should their thoughts ever turn to me.
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The French Knight

-Seen it all, done it all, can't remember most of it-

waiting

Hey Frenchy,

Fine poem and thoughts before. It would seem that the multi-layers of a person sometimes fight each other - sometimes work in harmony.

A childhood friend of mine is extremely bi-polar. So was her father. I remember growing up that some months he would practice putting alphabetical envelopes in slots - trying to get fast enough to get a job at the post office. Never got fast enough, poor guy.

But he painted - wonderful, erie, paintings. His daughter kept them. We viewed them side by side and you could tell where his mind was wandering. Like Van Gogh, his highs and lows were so obvious in retrospect. But he never got anywhere in life, always in constant inner battle.

Life's strange, isn't it? Thanks for posting your poem.

waiting

Seven

Frenchy, Thanks for sharing the poem. I can relate.

Seven

Frenchy

Thank you both. There is so much that goes into making what we are and therefore so many reasons for us to be misunderstood. Is it any wonder that God alone can judge the heart?

-Seen it all, done it all, can't remember most of it-

waiting

Hey Frenchy,

When my daughter went before the elders some years ago, she hadn't even processed the idea that she had been raped for years. She had a total absence of emotion.

They interpretated that as non-repentance. She didn't cry for them.

waiting

Frenchy

waiting:
That's sad. Why would she have to repent for having been raped?

-Seen it all, done it all, can't remember most of it-

thinkers wife

Frenchy,
Your post is so true. I have learned a great deal of tolerance through my experiences, and try not to judge people from the outside. Because we never know what has happened to them or walked around in their shoes.
Beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing. Again I say, if these are your words, you have great talent!
TW

Frenchy

Thank you, TW. Yes, they are my words.

-Seen it all, done it all, can't remember most of it-

waiting

hey Frenchy,

Sorry for being vague. She was in the meetings for sexual misconduct.
During this time, she finally talked with another elder&friend about my younger brother raping her and another ministerial servant molesting her (not known to each other) for years. My brother confirmed to me upon my calling him. The ms's daughter wrote a long letter to her elders about the years of incest at his hands. She was df'd too for sexual misconduct.

The sexual misconduct of both young women was not with the ms/father. With other people. But, as you are aware, after molestations/rapings, there are usually signs, even if unknown to the victim/survivor.

One of my daughter's signs was the inability to show/feel emotions at appropriate times. Thus, even though she confessed repentance, the tears weren't there. I know others things are involved - but the elders said they "weren't sure" of her repentence.

First time in committee meeting, df'd. There were a lot of politics in that congregation - she married into a high ranking jw family in our area. The father-in-law rules as the City Overseer with a strong arm. Payback time.

A lot of reasons for the df'ing - but not all concerned the act involved.

Don't want to take away from your poem - just life and actions are rarely what the appear on the surface.

Back to applause for your words.

waiting

ianao

Frenchy:

A poetic masterpiece.

Should You Ever Think of Me

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