'Devon, My Brother' Poem by Trevor Valentine

'Devon, My Brother'



'Devon, My Brother'
by Valentine

From darkness came light
From pain came relief
Or at least there started a journey

Words were my oxymoron

From sadness started a smile
What was down looked up
What encroached then began
To evaporate

Words were my duster, my eraser

The shoulders widened
The eyes engaged
The strides had purpose
The smile began
To believe
To trust

For once began hope

Defences lowered
Reason my friend
Hope my salvation
And salutation

Can it really this time end?

But no

Cannons to the left of me
Cannons to the right of me
Into the valley I rode
And fell
Amidst
The grenades

The cross fire

Why me?
Why again?
Why the madness?
What, just what have I done
To deserve
All this
Again

Relentless

Memories shackle
Videos replay
Again
And again
And again
On loop
And return
Vicious
Round
And round
Like the devil
Playing
Taunting
Hounding
Me
Just me

Why me?
Why pick me?
Why innocent me?

Why burden
What purpose
What was God's plan
What in his or her mind
Whatever good could prevail

I must fight
Defend
Attack
Wrestle
Block
Gouge

Recoil

Reflect

Rest

Yes

Clarity again

Hope

I may return
I may mend
I may fix
I may grow
Stronger
With your love

From darkness comes light
From pain comes relief
Words are my oxymoron
And love is my friend.

Sunday, August 13, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: abused
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
I met a young guy from America online. He, like me, wrote poetry. In his case, he wrote it to escape some from the horrors of his abuse; it was the most severe of child abuse at the age of 11-12. We became friends and shared poetry and support for each other through poetry. I tried to encourage him (then aged 23) to try to 'move on' from his abuse which was it seemed (quite understandably) ever embracing. He was starting to get there. He was afraid to make friends because, as is common with child abuse victims, they feel soiled, and only of interest to others for what they have survived from. He was beginning to turn the corner and find self-belief and strength, and met this guy, a friend perhaps, who very soon made it clear all he wanted was, well his hand was put on his knee and he tried to go from there. This put Devon back a number of months before he could start recovering again. I wrote this, not so much as a support, but to show that I understood his position and pain. When you are abused, one of the first help you can receive-wish is 'being believed'.
I have recorded this poem on Soundcloud, so Devon could (in America) hear the emphasis as I intended the poem to be heard.
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