Confessions To A Dreamcatcher

Rebellion rages in my veins, Dreamcatcher,
so tightly wound I have blocked hope
I want to be good – a good girl –
like that man of God says
but his preaching ways violate
prophecies a cover for sin
and I am so sullied that I fear
love will distain me.

How did I get here, Dreamcatcher
childhood a lost notion –
I try to minister to the past,
but Father’s sermonizing possesses
even in death, his will a barricade
I need guidance to help me emerge

I’m an unreliable navigator, Dreamcatcher,
oppression’s familiar, no high able to release me
suspicion of promises nauseates
I’m tired of facades – good girl facades –
locked in this nightmare
won’t you please help me out?

(For Eugi’s Weekly prompt: dreamcatcher. Art my own)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

22 thoughts on “Confessions To A Dreamcatcher”

  1. a bright cheerful art to accompany a poem revealing your fathers destructiveness … that stolen childhood, the innocence messes with head and heart! I doubt many fully recover 😦

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  2. Very relatable… what I think is interesting is how as women we also subtly oppress each other sometimes. Or that men who think seem to think they are progressive disdain certain types of female expression. A woman expressing her true feelings, I mean true true feelings, regardless of what they are, is an act of bravery. I think of a friend’s work and what she accomplishes is pretty major. She goes way beyond what I could even imagine myself doing. Not saying it’s worse or better, but it is definitely courageous, especially considering her personal history and the extremely oppressive upbringing she came from. I like that you bring up this topic. I definitely have “wanting to be a good girl” issues that I keep having to break in order to make changes I want to see in my life and/or in the world.

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    1. There is so much stigma concerning women’s behaviour, none of it constructive. Thanks for your thoughts Lia. We are breaking the ‘good girl’ mould one step at a time.

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  3. IMO, while growing up, the good girl facades are created for the benefit of others with no regard to mental scarring.

    My father was a self-righteous soul that it was his way or no way. I remember all too well his steel grey eyes and icy cold demeanor. My mother was just the opposite and supported me in every way until her untimely demise. It took some time for me to emerge from the nightmare but, step by step I moved on. I love your poem and can totally relate to it, VJ, and your art is fabulous! Thank you for joining in.

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