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old wars are continued and fought
on the battlefield child
I am the battlefield of such old fights
I symbolize a powerful god
whose unconditional approval is sought yearningly
as my parents’ eyes search my eyes
with the desperate longing of two children who did not know love
and—long—to get it from me
I symbolize the old enemy
who evokes memories of my parents’ pasts
all sorts of feelings that could not live with their own parents
can come alive with me—buried feelings of longing and despair
of hatred and revenge—of retaliation and boundless rage
can at long last surface and be released
without fear and with a clear conscience
the powerlessness of childhood
transformed to boundless power through parenthood
I symbolize a dangerous opponent
whose otherness cannot be tolerated
punitive actions—furious looks—judgmental blaming
invade and occupy the mind and soul of the child
every reproachful look damns me, even years later as an adult
back into the old submission
I represent a mirror, too
where my parents need to see beautiful reflections of themselves
to give them the experience of pride and glory
I am the redeemer who has to satisfy their longing for recognition
as my parents internal view goes back in time with despair
am I the most beautiful in your eyes, mother, father?
on the battlefield of old fights
I become a powerless puppet between my parents
in my mother’s mind I am her possession as well as her rival
with disparaging remarks she drives wedges into relationships
sends the message—you may not love others
it is wrong to love others—you must love only me
the child learns to hide feelings of love even from herself
the final battle
the devastating blow on the battlefield child
her beloved father seduces the teenage child to be his lover
makes her the intruder into her parents’ marriage
the battlefield child is crushed—nothing left of her
except the conviction that she is a worthless whore
a sinful monster who brought this disaster upon herself
filled with unbearable guilt and burning shame
the girl vanishes on the battlefield
only parts of her are left, scattered and broken
these different identities try to run her life as best as they can
the battle has entered the girl
all that the struggling states of her mind can do is
fight over the best survival strategies
she cannot organize the chaos inside
with its firm hold on her and its control over her life
her true Self cannot help her
it was the battlefield’s victim
no one there to help her reclaim it
© Barbara Rogers
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Screams from Childhood |
