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In some families, the members have a way of relating to each other that is generally hostile and non-nurturing. The adult children may have been abused by their parents, and having learned to interact in such a manner, carry it on into the next generation. Or there may be some unresolved family conflicts which foster abuse. The family may have a history of wife abuse which carries on into old age.
Waxy flowers poking through
Snow so white
Flowers bright.
Made me think of you.
I see once more your just washed hair,
Soft as snow,
On pillow.
Now my bed is bleak and bare
,
Face alight,flower to sun,
I loved you.
Love so true.
Fear by love,overcome.
Cyclamen in the snow,
Pink and red,
Now frozen,dead.
Love was,oh,so long ago.
But never gone from in my mind.
Thoughts so deep,
Upwards seep.
Love was gentle,love was kind,
Always in my mind
Evoking the beauty, the stars so far away,
I like to watch geese at the end of day.
Patterns and poems disclose other worlds.
Feel the hand of a baby with the fingers all curled
See the trust and the smile when the mother is home,
To create entire worlds for the one she has borne.
For chaos and panic or not far away
Even in adults who don’t care to say.
The little hands touch me so deeply, so well;
How come the world is diving to hell?
How can we kill little wains by the score
Was it for this that I opened your door?
Was it for this that love electrified us,
And we were lost in each other, in the holy white dove.
Was it for war that we gave love our wombs
Making more soldiers and filling more tombs?
The bombs are a-loading they’re having parades.
It’s not North Korea, it’s Washington, dude.
Let the tanks roll on Corrie and the Bedouin tribes.
Let the allies laugh blindly as the Lord Jesus dies.
O take me, dear mother.Please take me away
I can’t see no point in saying my prayers.
The leaders’ religions are making God frown.
The desert is empty, the tents all dragged down.
The centuries of living so free , so mobile;
The holy land blessing as they pause for while.
The little black tents like wombs of the night
Are all gone to shredders as we sing, Silent Night.
How my heart sings 