By Gerry Ritchie. – Accredited Counsellor | Evesham | NCS (nationalcounsellingsociety.org)
Hear my voice,
Consider my views,
Help me understand my past.
If the past is a foreign country,
Be my car, my train, my plane,
And transport me to that place.
Shrink me back to that small child,
Confused and frightened,
In a world ruled by capricious adults.
It was all so long ago, you say,
And things are different now.
The ones that caused the harm,
Are long since dead.
What good would it do,
To resurrect the memories?
What balm can be found,
In naming those accountable,
That cannot be held to account?
It’s the act of speaking out,
That brings relief.
Saying out loud,
He did this to me,
And though I have survived,
I still bear the scars.
Blame should be put where it belongs.
And from that act of speaking out,
Perhaps some good will come.