recollected sensations ... possible triggers


black soft warm
and stiff cold white
and flecked little gold stars
the musty leather smell
in new old cars
dim hazy twilight
in a silent shadowed place
the scratchy feel
of indigo cheeks
against my face
a deep deep valley
below velvet-like lips
smouldering sparkles
in ebony eyes
cajoling whispers
sensations and shivers
from anxious quivers
in trembling fingers
a musky hot smell
of cologne and sweat
the smothering embrace
and tender caress
not knowing
what was next
not knowing yet
what fate I'd met
not knowing then
that in a similar place
at a later time
with a different face
it would happen again
with the aromas
of grease and oil
and back-breaking toil
fouled fingers in creamy paste
and a pungent acrid cloying taste
and then a similar yet different one
still out of the sun
hot and dark in a foul stench
on a hard and filthy bench
then led by a kindly hand
across a fertile land
under a dazzling sun
to a place full of fun
with earthy smells
of repasts long past
and as was the custom
a prize was won
last of all
in a blessed place
in a hallowed hall
where I was safe
but not at all
from this I ran
from the trusted face
of a holy man
never to return
to any new faces
never again
to any such places
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a lifetime condensed into such a few lines... powerful stuff my dear friend it is a lifetimes work and not sure we are ever done.
((((((((((((( sharky)))))))))))))


Thanks new and woodenshoes.

To explain somewhat ...

perp #1 ... got me in his car.

perp #2 ... got me in a car that was always parked in a dark corner of my Father's garage business.

perp #3 ... He was #2's little brother and they looked very much alike except

the older one had a tanner skin and blondish hair on his fingers and arms and the younger had freckles and redish hair.

The younger one got me in an outhouse more than once ... either theirs or ours. (we were also neighbours ... in a tiny community in the late 50's)

#1, #2 and #3 were cousins.

None of them were my blood but in a tiny community they may as well have been.

perp #4 ... was a young seminarian in the Catholic college ... and from what I understand friends with #2 and #3.

He took me on a hot summer day across the field near our house to the picnic grounds where there was a community kitchen and dining room.

perp #5 .... He was my priest. He was also a close family friend who ate often at our table and was at family fucntions.

I loved getting up early in the crisp winter air or the cool of a summer morning to walk across the silent village to serve his low early mass.

After mass when I pulled the sutane over my head to change it pulled the shirt out of my pants. He said 'Let me help you'.

He pulled me close and shoved his hand down my pants and underwear fondling me and began to rub himself against me.

I probably would have gone along with it ...

but he was my PRIEST! ... and in his 50's and not like the young others.

I wrenched myself free and ran.

That is the only whole and entirely accurate memory of my abuse. I was 9 and remember everything clearly.

I later realized that it was the end of my abuse ... and the beginning of the loss of my faith.

I was between 3 and 6 with the first 4 men ... and then 9 with the priest.

I've left out stuff ... the poem was meant to be an outline only.