This Is Our Culture

The silence overwhelms me.

One more dead. One more abused.

One more sick. One more refused.

The hours tick and the silence

Overwhelms me.

He sits. She sits.

They sit. We sit.

The hours tick and the silence

Overwhelms me.

One more city. One more state.

One more border. One more country.

The hours tick and the silence

Overwhelms me.

One more badge. One more title.

One more mask. One more victim.

The hours tick and the silence

Overwhelms me.

Another grieving. Another guilty.

Another witness. Another silent.

The hours tick and the silence

Overwhelms me.

I won’t say a word.

But the silence

Overwhelms me.

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9 thoughts on “This Is Our Culture

  1. Pingback: An Open Letter to My Friends and Family | Uncommon Graces

  2. Just fantastic Grace. You are truly amazing. I have had many down moments, from PTSD, which I got diagnosed with when I was about your age. I suffered violence, sexual abuse by multiple family members, and pretty much abandoned, even after I shared my story with people.

    I have always felt that I was born into the wrong family, that some how I didn’t not belong with them. This memory was brought back to my attention yesterday when I viewed a YouTube video about passed lives. I then was speaking with two of my four sons yesterday and my twin son, who is now 24 shared that he has had a reoccurring dream about him and his twin involved in property. My 14 year old said that he has had a reoccurring dream about a lady, he still thinks is me, but I look different, and then somewhere in this dream he is running and bombs are landing all around him. We were all very overwhelmed by the conversation, gave us the shivers.

    At the age of 13, I thought I had already lived a lifetime and wanted to write about it, but didn’t know how to approach such a task. Dancing was where I was free to be me, or maybe escape me. Regardless of what it was, I loved to dance.

    Thank you for sharing your very creative mind.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Passion,

      Thanks for stopping by. I remember reading you had four kids! That alone tells me just how strong of a woman you are! I have a daughter. She’s one. I also have a six pound dog. You would think any woman could rock the mom roll just fine. But most days, I feel like a tornado that can’t stop spinning.

      13 was about the time life changed for me, too.

      At the age of 31, I am just now confronting and ferociously working to rise above the part of my life that kept me from living. If I told you the chain of events that have transpired in the last 12 months to bring me where I’m at now, you’d laugh, almost unbelieving. That is perhaps, the more accurate story of my life.

      I don’t talk about my PTSD often. I hate those 4 letters. I hate to hear it referred to as a “mental illness” too. I hope to build a strong enough thesis and formulate a strong enough research paper by the time I graduate to help change that.

      How can we take what is a “normal response to trauma” and label it an illness? It’s not! I’m not “sick.” I’m not “mental” or “crazy” or violent. I’m just a girl that has good days and bad days, and less happy memories than I do those that are bad.

      But that is not because I have PTSD. It’s not because I was a “victim” or because I’m a “survivor.” I mean really, look at the world today. Aren’t we all?

      I admin a PTSD support group and over a year ago, I posed it to them like this:

      I am neither a victim nor a survivor, but I am one hell of a solder.

      Soldier on, dear! I look forward to getting to hear more from you! ♥


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