February 17,2015; Sunday morning, January 22,2023
I will not remain silent.
I am a victim of violent trauma,
my younger son Shawn more so.
Trauma has changed us;
we are different persons now.
I understand the meaning of suffering,
and my life has taken a deeper, darker turn.
I continually call all my values into question.
I believe in nothing, no one, almost no one,
save you. Save you... I'm not sure what
we can do, but I can't give up trying—I have
to have faith in someone, strong faith even
if it prove illusory as is the case with all religions.
Yes, it's that old cliche—you are my well, my will.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem