“Children of the Night”

Here is a poem I wrote when I was 18 and pregnant with my first child, a boy. At the time, I couldn’t pin point exactly why I wrote this; however, through the years of therapy, I realized that I had a physically and mentally abusive childhood. Perhaps this was the beginning of my consciousness digging through the ashes to find purpose for my existence. Let me know if any of you can relate…

“Children of the Night”

Lonely hearts, holding tight
Restless spirits, fly by night
Love — a deserted word
Haunting memories, never heard
We can’t escape the past
The memories come too fast
—–
Someday it will be
A time for fighting free
Hurting ones will forget
And simply out-live the regret
When hate’s all around
New loves will be found
—–
We’ll blend with the rest
Simply hope for the best
Because we are the children
Who have a life to grow
We await the day
When it’s time to go
Go off to a better place
With a different face
And try not to be
Like that which we see
—–
Little faces, wanting embraces
Only to find tired, mean faces
Memories making a path
Towards the growing wrath
Friends will never know
The pain has learned when not to show
—–
But the day will come
When we will have won
—–
We’ll blend with the rest
Simply hope for the best
Because we are the children
Who have a life to grow
We await the day
When it’s time to go
Go off to a better place
With a different face
And try not to be
Like that which we see
—–
LaVancia Phoenix
July 17, 1992

2 Responses to “Children of the Night”

  1. Sal says:

    I was never abused physically, maybe somewhat mentally, what do I know… (But it was never that bad, really.) Anyway… I can totally relate to what you what you write about. Perhaps, it’s more that I see the world this way that you describe, but without having had such a bad childhood… (Don’t get me started on my teenage years though… Even if I probably was a saint compared to many…)

    Like

  2. I wrote this one when I was pregnant with my son and had just married my abusive, now-divorced, husband. I was 18 and he was 22. I struggled so hard through mood swings in those years. It’s wild that my sister was exposed to the same environment; however, she wasn’t as sensitive as I was and has been able to “wipe it all under the carpet” (so to speak)…

    Like

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