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We walk with our heads down, eyes closed, mouth broken.
We see no evil, hear no evil, and never think to speak.
We represent millions but are among the few.
Our voices scream behind silenced walls.
No one hears us. No one comes.
Would they if they could?
If I dared to speak?
Would they?
Please.
--The Silenced
I am thankful to be who I am today because of my life experiences. I seek to empower others to search within and find the strength to heal, love, and move forward... Walk with me... There is power in truth.
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LIGHTS OUT:
Sweat drips across bodies as breathing ascends. Chest hurts. Heart threatens to leap out as palms grow clammy and then wet. Soaking the sheets—a mixture of sweat, fear and possibly urine. Thumping against the wall as glass breaks. A woman screams as hand connects with flesh. Generations of anger mix with decades of fear in the air. A blanket of remorse hangs in the bedroom where children lay. This is only the beginning of a long evening.As Time escapes from the home, an eerie luminance casts a dream-like glow in every room. Movement accelerates in rapid motion and then slows with exaggeration—like a record player that has gone haywire. Children whimper, and then weep with caution… afraid the man with the loud voice might hear them and come in. Leg muscles clench involuntarily as cells remember the sting of a belt. Another glass breaks.The man with the booming voice rattles walls. They vibrate with a vengeance that rivals earthquakes. Woman’s voice is muffled as a fist plants firmly into her jaw, followed by a kick to the stomach. Ribs break. Woman howls into the night air. The children have seen it all before and can imagine what is happening in the next room despite hiding under drenched bed sheets and being surrounded by rattling walls.Man drags woman by hair, digging his thick fingers into her short mane. Bits of scalp lodge in fingernails. Pain. The man shouts angry curse words causing the children to burrow deeper in the bed. They know what is coming next. One, two, three, four, five seconds… Woman is thrown against the wall as wind rushes out of her. Whoosh. No air at all in the household.Gasping for breath. Gasping for understanding. Struggling to stand up. Aching to live. Seconds melt into each other and create a long period of quiet—a deep dark quiet just before the blood rushes. Then it comes. Nose gushes, followed by mouth. Tiny rivers of red flow from the corners. Cuts on the forehead release as pain crescendos. Inside the tomb—a broken spirit. Bones weep. Heart wallows. Organs forget how to function.Exhaustion and fatigue creep in to nestle in fingertips. Man backs away from crime scene and stumbles into oblivion. Children feel anger slither outside the door when man moves past. Stomachs drop. Shudder. As woman slips into unconsciousness, Time re-enters the front door. Hazy glow begins to fade. Clear. Hands still wet with anticipation, air still thick with sadness. Breathing difficult—but lungs adapt. A plume of smoky black descends upon the eyes. A cursed silence. Lights out.
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Rose Colored Glasses is a painfully honest account, and lays out the bare bones of a family who is almost destroyed by the curse of Silence. Stunningly poignant; it describes the heartbreaking effects of mental illness and abuse and the quest for individual freedom.
This book is for everyone who wants to break a destructive cycle, confront their past fears or who wants to speak out against abuse.
Rose Colored Glasses teaches us to accept the people who have hurt and betrayed us, and to allow the beauty of forgiveness to pave the pathway to healing.