You thought you could hide behind that affable smile;

those dancing brown eyes,

that cunning guile.

You thought we would forget the past;

the mind games,

the rot behind the mask.

You thought you got away scot-free;

while your children were sentenced

to purgatory.

The put-downs, the violence;

years of blood paid with silence.

The privilege with which you were charged;

became a travesty – a farce!

But now justice is knocking on your door;

to ruin, to destroy, no more!

Our harvest has come at last -

a monstrous creature,


© August, 2014 MR

My father was arrested today.

My Harvest is Coming

I’ve not posted for some time because I’ve been attempting to heal from the great shock of losing people I loved greatly: my lover, and my twin brother.  They haven’t died, they have rejected me.   I’ve posted about it ad nauseum on my blog so I won’t go into any more detail except to say that it has taken much strength to come back from these massive life blows.  I am no stranger to heartache and abandonment in my life, unfortunately.  I spiralled into a deep depression which is just beginning to lift.  I’ve never felt so weak and vulnerable before, no matter the challenges I’ve faced, but this depression has been the worst ever.  I’ve had no energy to blog, or play my guitar, or sing, or be around people.  I’ve just simply existed.

I have functioned enough, barely, to go to work, but that’s it.  I’ve begged off social engagements, and even my involvement in music has been scaled back.  I lost confidence in myself.  My Bear has watched me become sadder with each passing day.  At times, I’ve been scared, and I’ve not been sure that I would wake to see another morning.  This sounds melodramatic, perhaps, but it has been my reality.  I hide much of what I feel from the world, but my Bear knows all.  Thank god I have him!  He has saved my life!  He is my rock, and always has been!

I knew I had to deal with the depression and work through it, because soon my harvest is arriving.   I need to be strong for what’s coming.   The police have been investigating mine and my sister’s case for the past year.  They have confirmed most of what we shared during our interviews.  Our case has been passed to no less than three teams during the past year.  At times, I didn’t even know who was in charge, or even if anything was happening.  Finally, a few months ago, I met the officer in charge of my case.  She is a bright and motivated young woman in her thirties.  I’ve been very impressed with her because she’s been like a dog with a bone, chasing up every lead and interviewing people from my past that I have not seen nor heard from since I was a child, living in a series of childrens’ homes and the orphanage, and with various families.  She has been amazing, keeping us informed of the progress.  

In two weeks, the police will be arresting my father.  I can’t write more than that right now, I feel so emotional and exhausted.  This is the culmination of a lifetime of sorrow and pain.  This man caused so much destruction in my family, to me and mine.  I can hardly believe justice is nigh.

I will write more, later.  I hope everyone is well.

How to Break Someone



you think you know a person,

and you look into his eyes as he’s inside you

and it’s as if he heals every wound Life has given you 

as he makes love to you.

Because he gets you in your silences;

which are pools of awkwardness

that others drown in.

And then one day,

one of you stops trying,

stops relying,

stops replying;

and just like that it’s


And you’re left with nothing but memories,

and a lifetime of regret.


© August 2014, MR

An Exercise in Pathos



You leaving me
has thrown all of the dusty
corners of my house into
sharp relief,
and shown up the many blank spaces
where people I loved used to be;

you filled them, you see.

Down the endless corridors of my days
and nights,
I will hear echoes of you
on repeat and rewind
with: “I hope you’re not too broken,”
playing constantly.

The laughter that came so easily
to my lips
has faded with the last of the summer vintage,
and the city I once owned
holds the ghosts of our memories
of two lonely souls
I stay home a lot, now.

I’ve put away the gifts of love
you gave me,
perhaps one day I will have the
to look at them;
but not this minute, next year, or even within
the next lifetime.

Except for the multi-hued angora scarf
in muted purple, blue, and red;
don’t tell anybody,
but I wrap it around my aching heart
and whisper: “He loved me when he gave this to me”.

It’s not your fault, you simply left,
but you took someone I need back;
the girl I used to be.

© 2014, MR

A Passionate Affair: Day 1, Meeting

A series of poems for Chris


Photographer: Vladimir Nikulin

A walk in the park.

The day flirts

with the coming of dark.

It’s as if I’ve known you forever;

rain trails silver fingers

over flesh.

Night gathers two

(I and you)

between plush, warm folds.

The old wooden bed

bearing witness

as it has a thousand and one sighs


to lovers loving,



for the very first time.

© 1997, MR




It’s been some time since my ex and I communicated, mainly because I put a no contact period in place, oh and then there’s the small yet undeniable fact that he doesn’t want to see me again, at least, that’s what I got from his last email to me where he pretty much told me to sod off, lol.

NC has been helpful to me, in that it’s curbed my obsessive need to keep connected to him – very difficult after three years of no-holds barred sharing, and loving him.  I realize I lost control of myself in the end, and the situation, and it was especially apparent in the final couple of weeks.  The humiliation I put both of us through – well, it’s devastating to think back, and remember how I cried, begged, threw myself at him, and generally acted like a crazy woman!  Every abandonment issue I’ve ever had rushed to the fore when I thought about losing him, and I just went nuts!

That’s not love, that’s co-dependency of the worst kind.  That’s not love, it’s relationship/love addiction, and I was deeply afraid of losing my fix.  That’s not love; it’s the outpouring of every damaging issue I’ve held tight beneath my outer facade of being a strong woman.

I’ve been tormented ever since our break-up, wishing I could turn back time, and handle things differently.  Not to stop us breaking up, because I realize now that it would’ve been inevitable – just as he told me, we were two different people wanting different things.  If I could turn back time, I would’ve respected his decision, and walked away with my dignity intact, and possibly saved our friendship.  Now, I’m not sure we could even have a friendship – I feel so bruised from this all, so deeply hurt and fractured, that I doubt I could even look at him again without feeling splintered.  At the end, he was so cold and resolute, so intent on getting me out of his life, that even now, it makes my stomach roil over how much he must despise me.

I am hoping he remembers over the three years we were together, that I wasn’t this mad, desperate woman I became at the end.  I hope he would remember I have a great sense of humor, compassion, gentleness, and that there is poetry in my soul.  I hope he would remember I valued and respected him, as a person, and a human being, and as the smartest man I ever knew.  I hope he remembers I am thankful for all that I experienced with him.

The city I live in is a small city.  Undoubtedly, I will see him again.  Perhaps we will  have this conversation one day, about forgiveness.

But even more important than seeking forgiveness from him, is according forgiveness to myself.  I really am the type to obsess and self-punish whenever I, or sometimes others, made a mistake.  I realize I’ve been doing this since childhood.  Whenever my parents abandoned me, whenever my father beat me, whenever someone I loved turned their back on me – I would take on all the blame, and flagellate myself until there was nothing left of myself but bloody strips.  To move on in my life, I must forgive myself for the wrong I did to not only him, but myself.  I lost myself completely, and it’s only since this enforced no contact that I realize just how much I lost myself in him, our relationship, my expectations, his expectations, and this daydream I was constantly in, thinking I’d found the ultimate love and happiness.

The truth is, happiness is inside me, and if someone comes along to enhance my life with what he/she has, all the better!  But it’s completely wrong to look to another to spur happiness in our lives.

I’ve stopped crying 24/7.  I’ve stopped waking myself up with the sound of my own crying.  I’ve stopped being a zombie, capable only of turning over in my bed to cry on the other pillow.  I’ve stopped hating myself for him leaving.

I have not returned to work yet.  I couldn’t function and so I took a lot of sick leave off.  Thankfully, work has been very supportive.

I take my meds every day like a good mental patient, lol.

I huddle in my apartment, and I feel like a total useless loser because Bear does everything, cooks and cleans and shops and props me up and showers me with love and affection.

I avoid looking at my phone.

I spend a lot of time on two sites: exaholics.com and baggagereclaim.co.uk  Both have been instrumental for me understanding what happened in my relationship, and what I need to do to recover, and how my childhood issues bled over into my relationships.


The other thing I’ve been ruminating on is forgiving my parents.  My mother, long cold in her grave, and my pedophile father.  It’s not so much for their sakes – my father is still alive, and there’s been not one word of apology from him, but more for my benefit.  I really want to let this go once I finish therapy, and all the painful processing.  I’ve held on to every damaging memory, and every hurtful thing ever said to me by my family.  I’ve received, and believed, every derogatory comment, just as if it was the truth.  But no, I had no control over these people, nor was I responsible for their issues, or their pain.  I was just a child – they failed me, and in the end I failed myself by allowing their sickness to define my life, and my later relationships.

Like I say, it’s something I am contemplating. My first priority is to myself, reconnecting with myself, forgiving myself, and loving myself.