Silent Screams of the Heart


Walking Wounded
by: Wendy Apgar
    We are the walking wounded who have no place to heal,
    We are the walking wounded who aren't allowed to feel.
    We're told often to just ignore all the hurt and pain,
    That God will take it all away - but the pain remains.
    We allow an injury the time it needs to mend
    We give it a little time and on God we depend.
    Yet a broken heart is denied, grief is pushed away-
    This should be healed instantly, at least that's what we say.
    If Jesus would walk this earth among us all today
    He'd give the wounded time, He would listen and He would pray.
    As long as we don't hear, wounds not given time to mend
    We'll have the walking wounded, on this you can depend.





Reoccuring Prey
by: Tia K. Freeman
    She waits in the corner of the dark empty room.
    She waits for the judgment, her sentence, her doom.
    She knows that he's heartless and cold to the bone.
    But she says that she loves him and this is her home.
    She silently prays that he will let this one go.
    She left out the Mayo and got a bloody nose.
    It doesn't matter that she pleads on her knees.
    It doesn't matter that she begs him please.
    It doesn't matter this has gone on for more than fifteen years.
    It doesn't matter that he can no longer cry human tears.
    It doesn't matter that their little girls have seen this all before.
    It doesn't matter that she's staring breathlessly at the door.
    It doesn't matter that he keeps a loaded gun beside the bed.
    Will it matter when one puts a bullet in the other's head.
    It doesn't matter that you don't know her face or her name.
    It doesn't matter where she goes or where she is.
    She is enduring this torment regardless of what you say.
    She is your sister, your mother, your friend 2000 miles away.
    It doesn't matter that she's lonely, feeling helpless and afraid.
    It doesn't matter that in moments he'll be coming home enraged.
    It doesn't matter that in second's she'll become his slave.
    It doesn't matter that he's the hunter and she's the reoccurring prey.





No Where To Hide
by: Julianna ©1997

A word, a thought, or a certain look
who knows what breaks the light,
that allows the darkness to surface
ominous and dangerous, his need to fight.

Search to the right, and search to the left
please God, I pray, make me small,
eyes frantically looking throughout the room
make me disappear, blend me to the wall.

Feeling the anger and fearing the outcome
the storm and the blackness swarming so near,
anticipating the pain and sinking deep
shutting down all reaction, except the shedding of a single tear.

Backed in a corner, no where to hide
nothing to be said, but to wait for the passing,
the slaps against the face time and time again
the words flowing ugly and harassing.

Swollen with tears and red whelps standing high
humiliation from a man who's seed you bear,
elimination of all self-esteem, present and future
an ever present mark for all of time to wear.

Time and time again, always cautious of surroundings
never any peace, praying please God, allowing only then the tears
sensitive to openness and barriers to freedom,
his words still linger and chime for years.

Don't Cry Out Loud

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