It must have felt great!

The photo is of long ago

smiling faces all in a row

There's Alan.... and there's John...

They were so good in footy

... part of every team.

You remember the day the image was captured

... it reminds you of good times

.... and friends who shared your feelings. 

I remember the pain

The pain of hiding from those tormentors

I remember the laughing faces.... who inflicted pain

It must have felt great to do that... 

.... to trap the ones who could not hide

To hit and humiliate 

To share the feeling with mates

.... the power of knowing that the victim 

is powerless.... and weak

It must have felt great to do that. 

OK... next photo.... 

This one is a staff photo.... 

Those teachers were so good.... 

full of knowledge and encouragement. 

You remember them well. 

I remember them too..... 

I remember the teacher who delighted in the power

.... to catch those boys and to able to punish... 

to inflict pain.... 

..... swinging that length of hose 

must have felt so good. The little boys surely deserved such pain.... 

I can remember the smile on his face.... 

It must have felt great to do that. 

I wish that I could look at the photos

and feel the way that you do. 

It would feel great to do that.

© Ian Croft May 2021

Destruction

[..... the victim speaks] 

My dreams are gone....

dreams shattered in a few fleeting moments 

when you forced your brutal lust

on my vulnerable body.

In my innocence I had no understanding 

of what you did.... only the pain. 

The pain shocked my mind and my body

I couldn't have resisted even if it was possible

For you I was a thing

.... you didn't care that the person I thought I knew

had been destroyed in those moments

My dreams destroyed

... the image I held in my mind

could never never do such a thing to me

You were my special one.... my idol... 

but you smashed my image... 

... smashed my dreams

And now there's an aching hole in my heart

that I used to hold you in.... 

Gone..... gone.... you are gone

and the leering face can never

take the place... 

you used to hold

The destruction is complete.

© Ian Croft September 2019 

Done for me?

[.... getting things right]

When I look back over the years

.....when I remember all the pain

.. the way that the past was torn from me

I think of those as the voiceless years

Unable to speak of what had been done

I retreated into silence.... 

..... and the silence retreated inside a shell

Nothing could hurt me if no one suspected

.... I was there but I wasn't 

No sound.... no telling anyone

of just what had been done. 

And so the silence grew.... 

.... and strengthened.... 

The walls of the shell thickened

....it became ever harder to speak

Then the healing began

and the walls began to crack and thin

Long years while I found my voice

and began to speak.... 

And then.... I found you!

I was astounded....

Your suffering made me 

put my own suffering 

into proportion..... 

You had suffered so much

...... and yet you had survived

.... and in your own way you had coped.

You were not catatonic..... you could speak

You told me just what had been done to you

Your example.... so painfully earned

.... is a shining proof that

 I... Can.... Do... It

Thankyou.... Thankyou.... Thankyou

© Ian Croft June 2019

The forgotten victims

[... the pain of the victim]

When the Royal Commission delivered its findings
and the National Redress Scheme was established
the nation heaved a sigh of relief.....

"Those poor victims.... society is doing
something for them."   The nation felt good....
It's part was done. It's conscience cleared.

But few people gave a thought
to the role that the victim must play
in this whitewashing exercise....

Oh why.... why didn't they just leave us alone?

The victim must claim....
they must state in great detail
the nature of the injustices they endured
a lifetime ago.....
and this in itself is a ghastly experience.
To relive the abuses....
to stir up the emotional damage done...
Few people understand what that is like.

Oh why.... why didn't they just leave us alone?

To a certain extent the damage had been
covered with a thick scab....
Daily life could sometimes be ok....
.... but now the wound has been opened
and it's bleeding again....
Daily life is so much harder.....

Oh why.... why didn't they just leave us alone?

..... and then.... after all that prodding and poking
      .... stirring the pain....
they have the gall to prolong the decision process.
Taking months and months to decide an issue
that causes such pain to the victims.....
.... and to hide the process behind a cloak
of bureaucratic secrecy....

Oh why.... why didn't they just leave us alone?

© Ian Croft June 2019

To the healers

 [ .... a tribute to psychologists ]

The tortured soul has a voice
that cries in the silence.....
....  no one will interrupt
when the cry is heard

The anguish of a damaged life
feeds the cancer of the growing damage.
The longer that the damage
is left unhealed....
the more it spreads and poisons
the mind of the victim.

The path to healing is long and slow
It's much easier to hide... I know!
I hid my face for much of my life
and the cancer robbed me.....
.... family, friends, career.....
these were the price I paid over the years
... the cost of hiding....

If only I had had known at that time
..... the power of a healing friend
that could listen and hold my hand
while the dreadful deeds were unwound.

So my message to you mighty warriors
.... who go out to heal those wounds
.... Don't lose heart!  You are making the world
into a better place! ..... and your work
will live forever in the lives you help to heal. 

© Ian Croft May 2019

Past pain

[    .... not mine .... but makes me think!]

"Until you heal the wounds of your past, you are going to bleed. You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex; But eventually, it will all ooze through and stain your life. You must find the strength to open the wounds, stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past, the memories and make peace with them." —Iyanla Vanzant

Bittersweet truth

[... about finding the grail ... near the end of the search]

The search began many years ago
... the search led me through dark places
and through halls of light
I was seeking that elusive key
....the key that would open the door
.... if only I could find the door.....

I knew not what I was looking for
..... I only knew that I was looking

Over the years the damaged mind
that lived within me..... cringed....
It did not know that it existed
and while it existed, it placed chains
apon my search.

And so I searched for an unknown end
while wrapped in invisible chains....
What a disaster!

The inevitable failure fed the damaged ego
adding new chains to the load I carried.
.... and so it continued.....

.... until a "routine service" being perforned
one day upon my external self....
led the "serviceman" to suspect
that something lay beneath the obvious.

This led to two decades of delving and digging
into the hidden.... but not forgotten..... past.
And so we come to present time
when past wounds and pains
have been laid bare.....
.... the invisible chains are now in vain
as the inner and outer me
strive to join.... once again.

This the goal.... the aim.... the Holy Grail
at the end of the search...
.... to heal those wounds from long ago
and bring "me" to a place of rest. 

© Ian Croft April 2019 

The last gasp

[Last night I thought I had received an email ....
.... but now I can't find the email.  Did I dream it?
If it had been real.....   ]

There's an invitation in the email today
.... to another "Elders Way" time in Ubud
When I remember how intense
the time in December was
I can't face the same thing again

Last time I plumbed the depth
of memories and the feelings
... and I faced the discomfort of contact
with males.... my tormentors in disguise

I consumed my reserves of strength
..... and now.... the thought of doing it all again?
.... it brings my chest into my mouth
I can't face it all over again.

I need some time to recover
.... to build some strength anew
Don't ask me to voice those memories
to unknown faces again....
I can't do it.

© Ian Croft March 2019

Can I ever forgive them?

[it's a bad morning.....]

Can I ever forgive them?

The faceless unknown tormentors

have no identity to me
The torture was not delivered
with a return address attached
So the neatly wrapped experience
Is mine to hold for evermore
I cannot send it back

Forever doomed to unwrap the package
I dream of pushing it away
.... but the dreams always seem to end
with me untying the string
and unfolding the paper
To release the torture demon
who laughs at my despair












..... and once again..... the torment plays out

I wish they had a face
I wish they had a name

If they did then I think that I
.... could try to understand
the painful past they must have lived
that would twist their soul
into being the demon that delighted
in torture.... and torment

I wish I could know them...
.. so I could forgive them.

© Ian Croft March 2019

The sentence

[Reaction to the sentencing of Pell]

He gets just three years and eight months.
I’ve been in a mental prison
for fifty three years so far.

He's a perpetrator ..... I’m a victim.
Not his victim though ....
My offenders will never be accused
... they will never face justice
for stealing my life .....
and locking me into this prison without doors.

I’ve been in this mental prison for 53  years so far.
My life has been a torment .....
every other victim I speak to
has a similar story.....

Why are the victims so unimportant?

It just makes the abuse go on.

© Ian Croft March 2019

Ticking down

[How much time is left?]

The clock is ticking down
... not long to go now
It's been such a long battle
... years of living the same moments
over and over..... always the same
A living nightmare.. in past tense

In recent days I've come to know
just how sweet life can be

My surface mind knows....
and yearns ... for that sweetness
in the time it has left.

Not much time left now....
I gotta cram in the experiences
... if the aging body will let me!

The bastards stole my time....
... scattered my moments
across oceans of torments.
Now I know just what they took
and I want a few more pages in my book.
... a final chapter? A few more pages
before I reach the final cover?

© Ian Croft March 2019

Mine

[about my writing of poetry]
 
This can't be taken from me

.... Oh I spose if some dread mishap
should strike me immobile .....
then without a finger to poke at this tiny screen
it would be hard to write 

But I'd cope.... maybe with voice I'd still create
these gems of feeling and of thought
It would be hard I know .... but the words
they would still flow....

With these thoughts I can roam
far across distant places ......
or create a past which never began ....
or understand that past which torments me still
... and I guess.... that torment me, it always will.

Its only understanding which will bring
a way from the pain of the past
into the peace which might yet come

And so I think .... and ponder .... and write ....

and as I write, the fragments of the past
are arranged into a new pattern
of calm and peace ... at last.

© Ian Croft February 2019

The Mini-Me

The struggle of learning to forgive my younger self

I did some stupid things
when I was young
I kick myself and rant and rave
I'll probably take them with me to the grave.

There was this time when I....
... and that time when I said .....
I catalogue all my sins
and in misery hang my head
when I leaf through those sins
and remember just how bad I've been.

I never tell another soul about those things
Cos the "me" of now
says "Mini Me -You stupid cow!"
Those things weren't really that bad
They were nothing much in the scheme of things
they shouldn't make you quite this sad!

But logic of that grand scale
really doesn't help at that depth.
Mini-me lives so far down that he doesn't hear
the lovely sound of "You're OK!"

I wish that "Me" could somehow communicate
with "Mini-Me" and say
"It's OK ... you were learning ... you didn't know ....
I forgive you Mini-Me .... come and have a hug from Me"

© Ian Croft February 2019

Cruel friend

The past is a cruel friend
Each time I see a reminder of days long ago
I relive those moments....
I see the faces and I hear the voices
of family and friends that share that past.

But memories are a one way mirror...
I can see those people in my mind
but they can't see me
and they don't even know
that my thoughts are looking behind.

And as I relive those times in the past
my mind walks alongside me
and points out all my errors.
Why did you say that? Why didn't you say this?

Nothing in my past is safe
from the relentless inquisition
and I am ever bound to that excruciating rack
that tortures me me with "Why?"
Why did I do that?
What would today look like
if I had just.....

If I could turn off those memories, would I?
Without those memories, the past would lose its colour.... lose its taste.
Do I want a dull and lifeless past?

No..... for each memory which chastises me

there are ten memories that reward me
with the pleasure of a remembered voice
a feeling.... a sound....
Life has been so good

© Ian Croft January 2019

Memory

One of the great things
about being human
is being able to remember.
To remember those precious moments
that light up our life......
the moments we treasure....
We bring them out
and relive the pleasure
.... once again we feel the sensations
and the moment is ours.

Memory is what we are
... it's how we function
It's how we learn
and how we yearn....

But memory has a bad side too
It can be a curse for us
when we can't turn it off
When the nightmare won't leave
When pain is the memory
and it just won't stop....

© Ian Croft January 2019

The monster

I live with a monster......   No! Not that one!
The Monster that I'm thinking of
is one that changes form
so that he's never quite the same.

Sometimes he looks like a blanket
that is incredibly heavy
and I just can't get out from under.....
Other times he's like a grey mist
that clings to my face and
no matter how I try to brush him off
he just flows back..... like quicksand.....
he sucks me down....

And the Monster can pretend to be
things that I ache for.....
I long for a tender touch..... "You bewdy!"  says he
"I'll take that shape for a while."
and so he becomes the very thing
that I long for..... and he sinks his claws
Into my mind.

And so I want that monster as much as
I hate that monster.

The Monster has been my companion for such a long time.

© Ian Croft January 2019

Digging

I'm digging a hole....
A very deep hole . 
It's a hole into the hurts of my past.
I've been digging for a long time and the hole is deep and wide.
As I've been digging I've found many bits of junk
that I really don't want.
I've thrown them out of the hole and I don't want to see them again!
But as I found this junk, I understood how the bad bits were important to making the whole.

As well as the junk, I have often found treasures in the hole....
and these have been carefully cleaned, polished and studied. 
These treasures will be kept within easy reach
so that I can look at them often.
And I'll show the treasures to other people who are digging their own holes.
.... and we can share the stories.

Sometimes my digging has been done with a shovel.... slow and meticulous. 
At other times I've borrowed an excavator.... and the digging has been quick with amazing results. 
But at other times I've dug with a teaspoon..... it's been agonizing and hard.
But through it all I've kept on digging. Don't stop digging!

Where will this all finish?  How deep will the hole be?
I don't know.  I guess it might be that one day I stand back and say
"That's enough!" .... there might be an end to the stuff that I'm digging.....
or the hole might have become something of value in itself.....
or the hole might have become a lesson for other diggers....
But for now I'll keep digging.

It might end up that I've dug a foundation for some new structure.....
or I might use the hole to bury something that deserves to be hidden....
Regardless of what the hole was..... or what the hole is.....
or what the hole will become....
Just KEEP ON DIGGING.

© Ian Croft January 2019

Depression

(Mindfulness.... acknowledge my depression as a constant companion..... don't let it control)

My mate sits on my shoulder
and I was not very much older
Than him when he first hitched a ride

He's been with me all that time

At first he gripped with very sharp claws
and the longer he held the deeper they bit
Till it seemed like he was me
and I was his pain

As time flowed on and life's stabbing blows
were absorbed into my mind
so my mate chortled with glee
"I've got you" says he
You can't get away

It felt never-ending, that ghastly ride.
His laughter drowned out
all the words of those who would help
He dragged me down.... and killed my hope

Long years passed
and the repeated words of hope

from those who would help
gradually sank into my mind

The words that seemed best
are the words that show
that this dreadful mate
is not me! 

He is not me.... that ghastly vulture
sitting on my shoulder.... is not me

I can accept that he is there
but he does not own me.....

He does not control my life
nor control my mind
Poor thing..... he needs help too
Help to calm his pain
till he can find that he is mine

He does not own me. 

© Ian Croft January 2019

Kintsugi

Kintsugi is all about embracing things that are flawed or imperfect.... to mend them together so the cracks are more highlighted instead of hidden.

 

People who are inspirational have always had something that they've gone through — they've made that choice to either fear..... fear and shrink away..... or to face the fear and grow.

Let me be kintsugi
The unthinking vandals delighted
In the breaking of my life
They did the breaking so well
The jagged edges cut deep into my soul
and for endless moments the pain
of the cutting tormented me.

But two decades of patient work
has carefully fitted the pieces together
The love of those that surround me
has glued the parts into a whole....
and the final golden touch has been
the love of my brothers

I am kintsugi

© Ian Croft December 2018

Masks

We all wear a mask
That we hide behind

The real me they never see
The real me..... I will never be
On display.... till someone kind
Someone who cares....
Who wants to look
.... wants to know

Someone who understands
that we wear the mask
to dull the pain..... to take away
the hurts that we carry.....

But of course the mask
Only keeps the pain within
so that we can never lose that pain

Help me to take off my mask
.... and lose my pain. 

© Ian Croft December 2018