A Thousand Little Cuts

The unseen scars we carry linger for life. But do not define us completely. It is our bravery in which we choose to live with them, and not for them.

A Thousand Little Cuts

By

Carlos Lorenzo Estrada 

(Abreaction)

A thousand little cuts I bleed 

in wounds you can not see

In leather belts and iron buckles 

that lashed and slashed at me

For past is so unshakable 

from trauma left behind 

An unloved child abused and hurt 

exists in broken mind

No dreams of flying with angel wings 

will ever fill my sleep 

As scars and faded bruises mend

bring no comfort to tears I weep 

Yet, despite this life I've been given 

I choose not hate nor blame 

My only wish is a selfless hope 

no child feels this shame

A thousand little cuts I have 

that time will never heal

They numb me to this world I know 

and love I'll never feel

 

Author's Note

I do not want to open old wounds in others but simply wish to recognize them, as I do my own in this cathartic piece of poetry. And bring comfort to the readers who may see their pain in these words of understanding. It is not enough to acknowledge one who has lived through child abuse as a survivor. Instead they in their silent ways exemplify what it is to be brave. For in the brokenness and irreparable damage they have lived through and will continue to do so for the remainder of their lives there is a profound strength and grace that defines their soul. They are quiet heroes, much like my older brother Albert, who doesn't truly know the admiration I have for him. And how it has allowed me to find a compromise to my own suffering within the acceptance of my haunted past. I may not dream of angel wings, but he gives me faith they are there. CLE

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Beautifully composed lines Carlos, but such a tragic situation that any child should have to endure. Those scars never forgotten, yet no blame or hate apportioned. A raw poem indeed.

Chris

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you so very much for your kind words Chris. I so appreciate them. As I have replied to so many of my peers here, your encouraging words mean a lot. I wrote this in hopes that if anyone especially an abused child should ever read them that they know they have meaning in this world. Despite the broken part, they mean something to those lucky enough to love them. For years I have been haunted by the ghost of a child. One that I sought to deny exists. That I felt in my heart represented my weakness as a human being. A piece of me that could never be loved, nor deserving of it. That little ghost was a scar on me. Always present, always whispering. But I'm too old to hate anymore, nor be afraid. I can only love in the now. And I can only accept and comfort him, because in doing so the scars lessen. Thank you so much again for reading these words and giving me encouragement and comfort in yours. CLE

[Chris Shaw]

You know I so want to hug that little child:(

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Sadly, I think this poem is a reflection of so many in our world today. Broken people creating broken children. The cycle continues until it's broken. I have lived this life and know it well. It's an unshakable trauma that never completely goes away.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you Linda for sharing your thoughts with me and your truth. It truly is a generational disease past down. My father was abused by his, and I have no doubt it extended further. For years I tried to deny and accept that child I was who suffered so through no fault of his own. He would haunt me like a ghost. He was an unseen scar on me. And he wouldn't let go. What is so harrowing is to know within me I carry that cycle of abusive nature inside me. That I am by nature capable of such anger and abuse. It has ruined any semblance of a loving relationship I could ever dream of having because I can not trust myself. Nor do I others. This is the pernicious nature of abuse. And a shame unbearable to live with. Believing as a victim that we are incapable of being or deserving of love. Now in my old age I am too tired to hate and can only love the ghost of that abused little boy that I was. And in finally accepting him my scars have lessen some. I can start to love myself. CLE

[John Prophet]

WOW, tough stuff. So sorry you had to go through that!
Well written account of your pain.
JP

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you JP for taking the time to read and comment on this poem. I know it isn't an easy read at all. And I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to do so. But for every downer of a poem be assured that there are more optimistic ones being written by me as we speak. I wrote this a couple of years back and just needed to find a home for these words in hope that they may find a place in the heart of someone who has gone through similar circumstances. I want them to know I understand and that they matter too. CLE

[Sami Khalil]

Abuses are rampant in every society, done by intentional hands, to bring suffering untold to the young and old. I wonder if it a form of sadism or a retaliation for their abused lives before. I know many evil dictators were such. It is sad that it happens all over. It is sickening and worthy of treatment.
You have shed a great light on this issue. You have shared some personal things.
May all find solace and or justice.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you Sami for your kind thoughts on this poem. I feel I have found a middle ground in the acceptance of my past. I believe child abuse to be a generational disease. It was past down by my father from his. It is why I have no children of my own. It is a fear that resonates in me because of my abuse. It has led in part to many of my past relationships ending. The deep scars left me feeling inadequate and mistrusting in others. Always suspicious of intent and placing unrealistic standards upon those who were just trying to love me. Thus the deep scars that child abuse gifts to its victims. It has taken me years to overcome the shame. To accept the child I was. And to know that within me I carry my father's disease and the possibility of its self destructive nature. But I'm always the optimist and find hope in these little things. I can no longer hate the ghost of the little boy I was. I can only love it now, because I'm too old and tired to hate. And each day that passes where I can continue to love that abused child of myself the less my scars are visible to me. If that isn't hope, I don't know what is. Thank you again my friend. CLE

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome my good ol' friend

[Lorry]

We can only wish Carlos, that no one has to carry pain and scars through their life, but the world can be cruel, but being bitter or angry, or even carrying on that tradition is not the way to go.
Respect for not going down that path to all that have suffered and been the better person. And shame on the ones who take their own anger on the weak and defenceless.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

I could not have said it any better, my friend. It's been a journey to say the least. And for the longest time I was in denial that that child I was even existed, despite the fact I was haunted by its ghost. I hated it. But now I'm too damn old to hate; I can only love and accept that part of me. It's strange to say but it's given me a sense of redemption. Even though I was the victim I had believed that I deserved to be treated so. That is the pernicious and vile effect abuse has on the mind. It is a generational disease past down by my father, from his. I wrote this poem a couple of years ago. The theme of this piece I struggled with in releasing it here, despite having written a similar poem in the past. This one was just painful and pessimistic with its anguished ending. The truth is seldom rosy or positive. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me on this piece. I really appreciate it. CLE

[Lorry]

We all carry the sins of our father, for way too long and as you say, some end up feeling guilty over things that were not their fault.
Luckily for me I had a great dad, but learned his bad habits and took them with me into adulthood.
Luckily, his bad habits were chewing his food for too long while he pondered what nonsense I had asked him. He worked two jobs and the only time we saw him was at breakfast (if we were up early enough) and at his belated dinner when he got home at night.
We don't realise as kids that being a big family, there was always noise, but he just kept chewing his food and thought about what we asked like it was important. I also know the other side of parenting, with friends who would turn up beaten at school and I realise now that I was quite innocent at the reality of some people's life growing up.
One of my best friends was the funnies t and nicest guy alive, who was always avoiding his dad and would joke that he might love booze, but booze didn't love him.
It was the look in his eyes that told me of the life of pain behind the jokes and I remember going to his dad's funeral when we were about twenty and it was a celebration by the whole family who partied the whole weekend and never looked happier.
I doubt he even cared that he wasn't missed, but that friend of my youth ended up being a great success in the field he chose, which was one of those sciency things that no one had ever heard of.
Life can be cruel, but it can also be beautiful too.
Take all your hurt and imagine travelling to the horizon with it, before dropping it in the ocean and turn your back on it and don't look back.
It will be where it belongs forever.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

such a lonely poem...the dispirited speaker in desperation to find hope somewhere in a life
shaken from the start.
j.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

So true, my friend, but eternally hopeful and optimistic. The hardest part was overcoming the shame. The journey now is loving the ghost of that past, that little scared child, and accepting his scars for my own. Because I had tried so many years to deny their existence. And in essence deny myself of who I was and have grown to become. The hardest ghosts to shake are our own. The wounds and scars will always be there, but as sentimental as it sounds, only love can heal them. It has taken years to make ammends with the child that I tried so hard to acknowledge exists. I'm too old now to be angry at him; I can only love. CLE

[John the Baptist]

I can see why you note the similarity to my latest poem. The difference is you are speaking from experience, while my contentions are derived from my interactions with those whose experiences resemble yours. You have obviously come to understand the fruitless path called bitterness and to avoid it. Still, is it a forgone conclusion you will never be fully happy? I hope you have not totally surrendered to that grim eventuality.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

It has been a difficult journey. But the path to wellness is acceptance. The belief that one should never feel shame for being the victim of another's sickness. Abuse has a pernicious effect and influence, for I believe it's a generational sickness. Past down from parent to child in a vicious cycle of anger and rage. In every relationship I ever had the weight of fear has always been burdensome. That I carry within me an unrestrained angry that could come out at any moment and make itself known to those I chose to love. Or that I could simply tolerate such behavior because of the belief I was not deserving of anything better. I still carry the ghost of my past. I still see that little boy I was, timid, afraid, soft spoken, extremely shy and fearful. The ghosts we create are the hardest to let go. It is why even in my solitude I am not alone. I have him to love. That part of me that I tried so hard to deny existed. And now I try to love and comfort. I as an adult did well in hiding the scars from others. Just not so well from myself. I commend anyone who has ever loved someone who has had a difficult abusive past. It is not easy to do so and is a difficult path. But in giving that person a semblance of what love truly is you give them a path forward to finding compromise within themselves and acceptance to move past the pain as well as anguish. To where they can learn to embrace that ghost of their childhood instead of being in denial of its existence. I wrote this poem almost two years ago and was afraid to reveal it. But it was your poem that gave me the strength to be brave and speak to why your words are just as valid and important as mine in understanding the residual effects that abuse has on the human psyche. And in the end it is a disease only love and acceptance can cure. Thank you my friend. CLE

[Soren]

It is impossible to compare our own pains and past abuses with those of others, each has their own pains and I hurt for each person that suffers. It is a tragedy when someone desecrates or sets fire to our temporal home but it says nothing of us but of the perpetrator and the greatest tragedy is when the victim suffers feelings of blame. This was a hard hitting piece and so personal and raw, it hurts to read but is so well done.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and especially taking time to read this poem. It is not an easy read at all. These words go beyond just my own journey and pain. It speaks to the lifetime residual effects of trauma. It also reveals how some find it so difficult to love and accept love. Through no fault of their own. Abuse is a generational crime passed down from parent to child in a ceaseless cycle of physical pain and mental anguish. For many there is no cure, but only a hope to live some semblance of life with the scars. We may not always recognize the pain in others we have chosen to love who have gone through such a nightmare past. And indeed it is difficult to love someone who has been broken in that way. I have an admiration for those who do, and attempt to. For me personally what has been a challenge is overcoming the shame as a victim. When one is abused for so long they start to believe it's their fault. Despite the fact it is not. I'm still haunted by that little boy I was, and in ways to cope I had to literally tell myself that was not me. Ghosts are hard to let go, especially our own. Thank you again my friend for sharing your thoughts with me on this poem. It is written from a truth that has been difficult to let go, but more importantly to reveal and read them myself. CLE

[Soren]

I have always admired your work as a poet. I feel for your pain and past. I have worked with many that have been abused in the past and felt for each and every one of their stories, some greater and some just terrible. Such injuries leave scars and although these marks never disappear, when they heal they are tougher than they were before. Your talent in poetry must certainly be enhanced with the sensitivity that comes with such past pain. So good to hear from you my friend

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

the admiration is returned my friend. You are a talent, never believe less. CLE