Welcome to my blog. I'm afraid it won't be updated too frequently, as I only write when moved to write. These are a group of my poems, as written through the often difficult trek of the past nine months (at present) of my life.
I hope they speak to you and somehow reach the chords of your life, and that God will bring you through as He without doubt is doing to me.

God bless you.
~Jane Johnson,
August 14th, 2010

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

The Bitter Truth/The Congregation of June

Posting pictures in glee
Never thinking about who sees, only that you're happy.
That's good. I'm glad you're happy.
But I don't want to see. I don't want the ghosts
Dancing through my memories again.
The things I tried to be. The things I was. The thing I became.
Your making.
Oh no, of course...you look at what I've become,
And smile and shake your head and walk away.
It only took a man to make me happy, you think.
Now she's better, now she's complete. Her life
Can move on.
Move on?
How can I move on
When every day, every other day
Your faces and names and now, your photos
Flit through my head and sudden memory, sharp memory...no.
I have to tell myself out loud, to stop -
At work, on the train, everywhere I am.
Because of what you did.
Some of you loved me, love me still,
And I try to love back but I can't
Not as fully as I once could,
Because of the damage.
I can't trust.
I don't know who did this to me, but the ones I know did -
I'm mentally ill, you said. You kicked me out without mercy
Because of what you thought of me.
You never let me speak for myself.
It was weighed in the balance against me, without me.
You judged me without mercy.
And as I, hurt, lashed back,
You rushed my leaving with all assistance necessary,
Cut me out of your lives.
You think a "Congrats" on my wedding photo
Can heal the damage you caused?
You think the tears running down my face now, burning my cheeks,
Are selfish, induced by pride, or - what?
I didn't want to hear why you judged me, and to this day
I don't know why.
Still not sure I want to know why
Three years on.
Because you thought I was mentally ill?
You pushed me to the brink. I still remember
So sharp, so clear,
The days after you told me, Don't come again.
And the day after I found out the one who hated me most married into your family.
You pushed me to a knife's edge.
A day didn't pass where I didn't want to die.
You kicked me out of the haven I had entered into the pain of the reality.
I knew, with the part of my mind that was sharply clear struggling feebly against the fog of pain,
That I could kill those who hurt me without a shadow of remorse.
That scared me.
You caused it.
Because I self-harmed? Did I EVER encourage anyone to be what I was?
Did I try to point them to Christ? Ask them!
Ask those who I tried to help. Watched me struggle. Lifted me up.
All I wanted to be was honest.
You kicked me out.
Every day I have to deal with my emotions.
Most of all hatred, against the few I know who wronged me and against whoever you shielded.
And against you.
You abandoned me.
Self-preservation? I'm glad Jesus thought of that first.
Every day I have to deal with the knowledge
That I know I'm sinning by hating you all so much.
I'm getting better
Fitting my life around the cracks like you never were, like you were all
Some distant planet.
More the better. I wish you were.
Wish I didn't have to see the photos and know what you did sting me like salt in a fresh wound
And again.
I cannot forgive you.
I ask Christ to help me forgive you - not for your sake. For mine and my relationship with Him.
And I ask that my attitude towards you changes, because right now, if we're both in Heaven,
I want to be at the furthest end away from you.
Every other night my poor husband is woken
By my kicks or crying out
Because you cross my dreams
Again and again.
I can't let go. And I'm trying so hard.
I wish I'd never joined your group, in some ways.
But I made some friends, good friends, who stuck.
Even if you thought I wasn't worth you.
So as you pour all your work and love and effort into the kids and adults you thought were "worth it",
I hope the ghosts of the rejects haunt you.
I hope my ghost haunts you.
I hope the pain you cost me haunts you.
Until, pray God, I find the grace to forgive you.
And then, maybe, I can find the courage to ask you to forgive me, for this.

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