First, I forgave the bullies
Who made me cry.
I didn't know your story.
You didn't ask for mine.
Now the hard part.
I forgive myself
for the mistakes I've made.
It's been a long, weird game.
But so far, I don't regret
The way I've played.

The man rows his boat,
away from the shores
  of livid hate,
   into the ocean,
    in the pale moonlight,
     as the night dissolves
      the blur and stars
       shine his mind;
        and the ocean
         swallows his soul
           for his Nirvana.

A delicate crimson rose endures
The snow and winds of winter's grasp
And closes up and wilts a while
Until Summer sun it finds at last

In this world of unrighteousness
Where brutes and ogres' egos roam
And selfishness abounds like weeds
She exists in shattered form

With silent seething disilusion
And saddened, unrequited love
Maddened by the unjust acts
of those who advertized their “love”

A vain and self-indulgent god
Did sieze himself her mind and oath
Presiding as the demons do
In hidden acts pronounced as gross  

Enduring the madness of matriarchs
And the hostility of tribal gang
Where smiles of familial welcoming
Turned into savage, jealous fangs  

Yet though the bitterness seeps through
And anger permeates her skin
Sweet dignity she still retains
And devotion stll resides within

Her adornment incorruptible
Her spirit mild and resolute
Did not return evil for evil
But stood and conquered it with good

Happy is she who has endured
And in mild subjection did remain
Showing honour to a painful degree
To bring honour to Jehovah's name

And though she stumbled in despair
Yet withstood for righteous sake
Her loyalty, the beast could not sever
Nor divine concsience could he break

For like the rose at winter's end
That bears a striking sharpened thorn
Her petals still are soft and pure
And her soul with beauty still adorned

For the righteous one who sees all things
And whose love she yet retains
Will never for eternity forget
The love she showed for his great name

And should she reach out and beseech
And trust his salvation once again
She would know with certainty
He has never let go her hand


(For my precious daughter, Cheryl, who has been to hell and back)

It's strange the way I am
My name is always different to others
Ash, Ashlyn, Lyn.
I've been called other names, too.
******, Crazy, Insane, Wreck
Wrong, Right, Girl.
I mean..they're not wrong.
But I have a name you know.