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 Sep 2014
SøułSurvivør
I was a preemie.
Fate tried to **** me
Before I was born.
My poor beleaguered mom
Fell off a chair while pregnant
With me... thus did I come
Into the world.
Beat up from the feet up
And lookin' like a prune...

My childhood was horrific.
I have huge holes in memory.
I can only tell you I was
Starved of love and terribly
Neglected. Mercifully
I don't recall the molestation
And assault I know I endured.
It wasn't my parent's fault.
My father worked 16 hour days
And mom had blinding migraines.
And undiagnosed behavioral
Health problems. She is bi-polar.
But what I remember most vividly
Are the trips to visit my mother's
Sister and her family.
In the Sangre De Cristo
Mountains of New Mexico
Up above Taos.
My mind touched furred mountains
And inhaled the aromas
Of sounds... aspen's disc leaves
Sibilantly soughing
And the Red River flowing
Through resplendent green.
Indian paintbrush and columbine
Sparking on the verges of roads
And nodding their soft blue heads
Respectively.
Once we took a hike to
Horseshoe lake, and
Caught flashing trout,
Their scales making rainbows
To grace their silver sides.
We ate well that night!
On the way home it rained.
A cold, piercing downpour
That soaked our clothes.
All the other kids cried.
But not me.
I was in fairyland.
Coming from the
Sonoran desert I've always
Loved the rain...

The rest of my life I fared
Little better as far as fate
Meted me out a VERY tough
Hand. But I remember
The long hikes on Venice Beach
boardwalk... I walked 8-10 miles
A day. And lost a total of 138 lbs.

I've had to fight like Muhammad Ali
For every square inch of joy.

But I still float like a butterfly...
... and I really try to put a cap
On my stinger. I have one.
But I want to go through this life
As wise as a serpent... gentle as a dove.

Because now I know that
all I've gone through
Had a definite purpose.
I'm a Blues Brother's sister...

... on a mission from God.

But it's never about ME.
IT'S ABOUT

H I M.



SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 16, 2014
Here I go, writing again! I can't help it!
I'm riding a wave, dear poets. You know
The feeling of being in the 'flow'.
Please. This poem is not a bid for sympathy.
I simply could not write my story without
Being honest. The bottom line is this.
If I hadn't gone through all I did I may
Never have been redeemed as I was.
I will write of that phenomenal experience
Sometime soon. For now I'll just say this...

HE LIVES.

— The End —