The Windows of My Soul: It is Better (#52), Hell (#53)

In today’s world, poems like this would generate calls to the authorities. I don’t know if these were shared when written, or until many years later. Through them, we get a glimpse of the horror that was going on in her life at the time.


It is Better (#52)
© Brenda
February 22, 1972

Oh dear Lord of Life
Will this chalice never pass
Will the wounds within my soul
Be healed someday at last.

God grant that I never
Callously hurt another so
As he willingly and knowingly
Tore me asunder in my soul.

And now, I am with Karen
The sister I know so well
Is it better to never love at all
Than be plunged into this hell.

Dear God, grant that someday
I will change my mind
And learn to love again
Leaving my sorry behind.


Hell (#53)
© Brenda
February 27, 1972

This must be Hell
This searing, tearing pain
And through it all
I must remain sane.

I feel blinded and bound
Hopelessly alone
With my shattered nerves
My tears and my moans.

I laid my soul bare
Revealed the secret that is me
So innocent, so unaware
Foolishly, I did not see.

I will learn somehow
For this grief atone
Then pick up the pieces
And go on alone.

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