Family- poem

By, Jess Dickson


Family is forever
Blood is thicker than water
I’ve heard these things said
But nothing is forever and blood means pain
I bleed upon the hands of my father
Shed tears on the feet of my mother
There is nothing sacred in this place

Family is love
Love is eternal
Someone once told me
And I laughed until I cried
I hide in the corners of my room
Pray for the rising of the sun, terrified of the moon’s companions
There is no peace to be found here

Family is a circle
A circle never ends
I read this somewhere
So I took out my pencil and began to draw
Within my circle I sketched the figures of those I loved
At the top, in my teenage ink
Family

The Wall- poem

By, Jess Dickson


I’ve leaned against
Hid behind
Loved
Hated
This structure that has become as integral to my breath
As the heart that beats in my chest

Some have tried to climb
Push down
Break
Cried
In protest to this barrier that keeps me apart
Allowing no one to enter in

I’ve created my space here
Safely solitaire
My hands reach beyond, to touch the skin of unity
To feel the softness of love beyond
Pulling back before I am reminded of my place

Some have tried to join me
To sit in my silence
Trying to reach the one they know hides inside
To touch the tears of silk
Patiently still, they wait on the other side

Rising Whole- poem

By, Jess Dickson

Tearful rain falls from eyes that have seen too much
Landing in a torrent of memories
She scrambles to the summit
Fingers bleeding, holding on
Dreams float, fluffy hope clouds drifting
Her eyes bear witness
Her body wears the scars
A map of depair and nights spent hiding
Clinging to dreams not quite believed
She takes each step, one…by one…
A soldier of resilience
Never giving up, determined heels grip the ledge
Gazing into currents of pain she has weathered
Laying down, closing weary lids
Her hair and pain drifts down to meet the healing mist of truth
Her chariot awaits to carry her burden into the shadows
In peace she sleeps to rise whole

Writers' Lament

By, J. Lynn Dickson

A writer is seldom without expression
Without a fragment of thought
Sewn together in a line of truth
And still I sit with a needle in my hand
Without string to join emotions and words
With shaking hands I try to lace inspiration
But misty vision prevents the grasp
Stitch by stitch I unravel
Memories pull on the heart, on the strands of me
And rest in a knotted ball at my feet
My quilt is missing color, lackluster and threadbare
Shades pale in disillusion
My soul slips between its folds
Hides in its creases of familiar tears
And disappears

My Mission

As a writer I don't seek to educate, which is perhaps unusual. Rather I make attempts to connect my readers to myself, and hopefully, in the process, to themselves.

As a child I was a voracious reader. Opening the pages of a book was akin to climbing atop a magical carpet that could whisk me away from the painful existence of my life and transport me to a place without fear. Reading showed me how easily a mind can become immersed in the words of another, how powerful the force of someone else's thoughts really are. I learned that my experiences were not wordless balls of misery, but that they could indeed be written, if not spoken.

The affects of that knowledge are too far reaching to encompass in this blog, but I can say that it is that lesson that began to break the chains of silence, and that over the years, my words have continued to serve as a method for telling all of those things I can't speak.

It is my hope that in my words you find your own voice, whether spoken or written. I also hope that perhaps you will find a source of motivation and strength to continue in whatever trials you are facing in your own life.

I invite you to visit this page often, leave comments, questions, feedback (something you like? something you don't like?) or anything else that it is your heart. If you feel a personal email is more appropriate, you will find my email address in my profile. Please do not hesitate to use it.

~J. Lynn

You- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson


You

Waving hands clenched in fists
Shouting obscenities
Whore, bitch, slut
Arms slit open for the world to see
Hatred seeping from the wounds self inflicted

Trapping me in the corner, knife in hand
Promising to end my life
Spewing venom in the spit that hit my face

Throwing me away, into the woods
To the rapists that pushed me down
Taking pleasure in my pain


Packing my suitcase, T-shirts and shame
Driving me to the rubber room
Claiming my insanity to protect your own


You

Thought the truth would fade
Hid behind the pills and distance
Concealed yourself in artificial madness

Lie to save yourself
Tell stories to protect your fairytale
Forgot that I’m no longer a child

You

Cannot break me
Did not destroy me
Will never know who I've become

In spite of you.

Silent Witness- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

It is the movement, the fire
Kinetic life to which I raise my glass
Dedicating the lighting of the cigarette
To the sounds below that reach up to be heard
So familiar are the wars
I can follow the tracks of fury with my ear
Plates batter the wall
Landing in shards on the tile
The enemy is there
Hissing the words of a man
That never knew love
She sputters blood, teeth
And tears
The words of a woman begging
To remain whole
He is crouched in the corner, head bowed
Praying
Or weeping
Because no one taught him
How to save his father's soul
His mother's spirit
How to see if there is enough grace
Left for him
Sometimes she leaves on a stretcher
Sometimes he leaves in handcuffs
I watch through the window
As the violence unfurls
To see what the silence brings

Yesterday's Etching- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

Memories tiptoe into now
Like a child with padded feet
Edging towards the noise that frightens
To that nameless thing she sees
When her eyes are closed
Sleeping or not
She takes the covers, slams them shut
Yesterday is a pop-up book
Where the nightmares aren't real
Unless the pages are turned
She dreams her life
A shaken etch-a-sketch
Sadness erased

Finding God- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

I’ve lived as a silhouette
Veiling my face from the sun
Protecting my spirit from the ugliness of truth
Remaining only for the moon
For the voice that spoke
When there was no one to listen

In my dreams,
I’ve hidden in the curve of your arm
Fallen breathless into you
My tears broke within your embrace
My fright ran from the unyielding power of your shoulder

The mask I’ve worn ragged is falling apart
A jigsaw of memories and faces at my feet
Life and people have passed me by
Forgotten in the shadow of years

Shielding my eyes with bleeding hands
Your light too strong
Stepping gently into my secrets, into my shame
In your palm lies my healing heart

Paired Souls- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

Paired souls
Joined in the heart’s place
One, mistrustful before the sun
Holding its secrets tight in fist
Another, fully bloomed, petals outstretched
Reaching arms to the sky
You remind me of me
Before and after


**Note about this poem: When reading this picture a two flowers that share a single stem. One is looking up, the other is drooping. This was written during a workshop in which we were presented with a vase of flowers and asked to write about one.**

Broken Beauty- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

Broken beauty
You look like a heart
Stopped beating, stopped loving
Broken in two by the gust
Of betrayal
Now your sadness weighs you down
You stare at the ground
Hunched over
Breathless
Yearning to be plucked
From the root of pain


**Note about this poem...when reading this, envision a flower with it's bloom broken and dangling from it's stem. This was written during a workshop in which a vase of flowers were presented to the group and we were then to choose one to write about.**

Time- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

Where does time go
Once it has been lived?
Does it implode
Bursting inward shards of memories?
Does it vanish- a fleeting thought?
Inklings linger- fragments-
The body matures without the mind
Seconds evade the hours
Escaping?
Abandoned?
Left behind to
Remember?
Forget?

Meeting- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

Seething clouds fuse together
Silent glaring eyes meet
Blended fists folded tight
Words sit muted on parted lips
Thunder pounds with questions unanswered
Common thought unspoken
Stars tumble free from the hook of the moon
Breaths held close in unison
Dust of dreams plummet
Joining together in a delusory psalm
Raging history, forgotten tomorrow
Sung out of tune

Phantom- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

Can you tell me, love
When the music died
~Limp harmony embraced by tuneless melody~
At our masquerade?
Sweeping in,
Phantom caped in mystery, danger…love
With no opera left to sing
We danced the tango around the truth
We waltzed, my limbs, my heart
On your strings
Oh, master puppeteer you wore your mask so well!
Perfectly painted porcelain lies
Perched on pink lemonade lips
Be careful, don’t let them fall!
How easily they shatter…
Crazy marionette, I believed
Grasping shards of dreams in bloodied fists
Crystal streaks of sorrow trace my cheek
As I gasp for breath,
Gasping your name
As the curtain closes on your farewell bow
Phantom, sweeping out.

It Wasn't the Wind- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

A prisoner kept without reason,
Confined to a cell locked without a key
Lies in each word you speak
It wasn’t the wind
That pushed me against the wall
Spewing venom
It wasn’t the wind
That threw me to the floor
With laughter in your eyes
It wasn’t the wind
That wrapped it’s hands around my neck
In my pleas, my screams
You found satisfaction
In my tears, my misery
You found joy

A refuge on the run
Trying to keep one step ahead
Prey fleeing predator
In all that you thieved
Have you not taken enough?
You stole my heart, my body, my spirit
My soul sits in ruins at your feet
Are you not satisfied?

Chronicle- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

I’m the one you saw twenty years ago
Standing at the bus stop
Cloaked in first day jitters
Spiral curls twisted in place
By Grandma’s not so loving hands
I carried at my side a cold metal box
Puffed out Strawberry Shortcake
Filled with food that would return the same way

I smiled on demand
At flashbulbs and teachers
I scribbled bright colors over Care Bear faces
X-ing out the places where color
Swelled over the edges
Pushed by tiny, trembling fingers
X’s made them disappear
Made them perfect

I waited for my mother after school
Hands clasped obediently
Then stuffed in shallow pockets
Of a coat out of style
One hour turned to two
Rain drops to tears
Swallowed when finally familiar headlights broke
Through the midst of abandonment’s ghost

I’m the girl with the red/blonde hair
Green peering eyes that revealed nothing
Seeing everything
I felt the pain of your tears
The surge of your anger
The belly of your fear
Just by looking in your eyes
Your soul’s pane

And now here I am
Girl grown woman sized
With the same hair, eyes, heart
Still seeing, still longing
Still chasing the same rainbow
But now my curls are straightened
By the weight of circumstance
I still smile on demand
At clients and men
I still insist on perfection
Trying to X out the places in my life
Where mistakes swelled over righteousness
Tears over smiles
Trying to make them disappear
Trying to be perfect
I no longer wait for Mother,
Now I wait for me…

Evidence of Him- Essay

By, J. Lynn Dickson

Many times I have questioned my faith. Most of my doubts were in essence an act of rebellion when I didn’t believe that God had cared for me well enough. Where was He when my mother chased me up the stairs with a butcher knife? When all of those men taught me things no little girl should know? When I was drugged beyond comprehension to hide their secrets? Where was He when my rent was due and my wallet empty? Where was He when someone else got the job I had prayed for? Where was He when I drank anti-freeze because I thought the only way to end the pain was to end my life? Where, where, where…?

The truth is, I’m beginning to understand that God was in all of those places. I just wasn’t looking. He is the One who wrapped my broken heart tightly in His cocoon of strength and allowed me to transform into a butterfly of faith. He was the hope in the rising of the sun and the solid ground beneath my feet. He announces Himself in my life every day, if only I get out of the way to let Him near. He’s not manifested in money, power or even the will to live. After all, He is the one that gave me free will in the first place, but He can be found, if I seek Him.

Evidence of His love is all around me, in the strength of the human spirit, in the profound reflex of the mind to not only persist in the impossible, but to find a way to make the unmanageable normal so that facing it every day loses its enormity. He taught me to endure, to persevere, and most of all, to overcome. Perhaps that is the essence of His spirit dwelling within me; within us all.

It is not the act of a mortal man or woman to continue to participate in life after the death of a child. But we do. Even more so, we claim the reason for their death as a personal war, a crusade against disease, against violence. It is not within the capacity of a typical person that faces immense tragedy and trauma to turn around and write a book about how the experience made us better than we were before. Yet, we pass hundreds, thousands, of such testimonies in every bookstore in America. We share our experience not only to heal ourselves, but to give hope to those who struggle.

The next time I feel my belief begin to waver it might be in your eyes, your smile that I find the proof I need of His love for all of us. Christian or not, there is a Divine presence inside of us, each one of us. The choice is ours whether we accept or deny it. He has given us the greatest gift of all, by not only loving us, but also by giving us the compassion to love each other. It is with our own free will that we decide whether or not to receive it.

If You Asked- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

If you asked me who I am
Maybe I would tell you
I’m a writer
A fighter
A giver
I’m a mother
Most of all

Maybe tears would spring forth
Maybe I would say
I don’t know
I hide myself
In a box
In a cave
A turtle in its shell

Maybe I would tell you nothing
And let the answer
Rest in the silence

Emergence- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

It’s not who you are~
Flower closed in fist
Withdrawn
Afraid to scorch your petals in the suns light~
I fear
You see,
When you’ve pulled yourself so far inside
When your soul is screaming for release
Lashing out- razor tongue
Pointed finger, anger cloud
Darkened with misguided fury
Hovering
That I descend, grown woman
Down to the dirt of childhood fears
Shrinking,
Sucking in breath, tears
I’ve not run, hid
Nor forgotten
I’ve only taken a step
To a space where I can breathe
I’ll be here
In the shadows
When you’re ready to blossom
Flower petals extended to the warmth
Climb the ladder
Of sun’s rays
Emerge from the darkness
Meet me in the middle
Of the heart’s place

Breathe- poem

By, J. Lynn Dickson

Breathe in, breathe out
Does it hurt you too?
Is your chest on the brink of self-destruction,
Internal combustion?
Can you hear the bomb
Tick
Ticking
As steady as the beat of your heart?
Does it hurt?
Inhaling, knives piercing
Blood dripping red on every breath
Death lingers thick
Pendulum on a string
Tears prickle desert lids
Pools escape on darkened half moons
Jagged, cold,
The needle digs deeper
Drawing hope, injecting despair
Time to whisper goodbyes in the wind
Take the final exhale…