I wrote this in April 2015.
..........
The only thing I can figure out is
that people who have been repeatedly
beaten over the head or worse
can often lash back by doing the
same which is a shame
and this is how abuse is spread
through generations though there may be
alternate manifestations of the bitter
defense, it only makes sense that it would
continue without stopping from one person
to the next.
Robert beat his son senseless
on a regular basis, never offered praises
for accomplishments. Robert's son, Joseph,
grew up, married Jane and they, too, bore a son
who Joseph began to reprimand daily.
When Joseph's son began his career as
a fairly new supervisor, he treated his crew
the same, often calling them crude rude names,
never thanking them for their hard work and all of these
men went home to their families and took
their resentments out on their wives and children.
This is not a poem, it's a simple lesson.
It may take multiple generations for confessions
to surface and apologies to become sincere.
Reversed, the curse of abuse can be turned around
to reflect sound judgement and love. Every action given
is received. Self esteem is built by parents who offer
guidance and support. Their children grow up to respect
themselves and respect others, including their own children
and are wise to praise those they supervise.
Think of it as a matrix.
It builds upon itself one person at a time.
Pardon me for writing prose broken in lines.
How it Spreads – A simple lesson
- Doreen Peri
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Re: How it Spreads – A simple lesson
It is also like transmitting a disease, a virus.
The Irish Sea Is Always In Turmoil, Even When Calm.
- Doreen Peri
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Re: How it Spreads – A simple lesson
Well said, Dan. Thanks for reading and commenting.
Re: How it Spreads – A simple lesson
couldn't agree more...and prose poems are just fine at times, the perpetuity of abuse lingers for generations.....so why not try being kind, and have that be your legacy....hard to get from abuse to enlightenment sometimes
I have a tattoo of heart with wings flying into the the side of a contented face, with the words,
nothing matters but he quality of affection, in the end that carves the trace in the mind
to me it suggests we can pass on loving ways, if not actually through DNA, then through the collective consciousness
I have a tattoo of heart with wings flying into the the side of a contented face, with the words,
nothing matters but he quality of affection, in the end that carves the trace in the mind
to me it suggests we can pass on loving ways, if not actually through DNA, then through the collective consciousness
If you do not change your direction
you may end up where you are heading
you may end up where you are heading
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