Silently Inside

Pain has come and pain has gone.
It’s up and down as life goes on.
Unwelcomed tears, still they came.
You must obey the rules of the game.
No room for fear. Nowhere to hide.
You can only cry aloud silently inside.

The voice will fade. The pain will too.
You must learn to breathe it through.
Trust the one instructing you.
Only they know what to do.
Leave those closing eyes open wide.
You can cry aloud silently inside.

Caught within a world of fury.
Self made judge and jury.
So much noise within the silence.
Penned beneath the raging violence.
Muffled within the voice that tried.
I heard you cry aloud silently inside.

Wasted life upon the floor.
Her Savior shouts, “They’ll be no more!
The life I made. The life I love
Will take no more push and shove!
My child, you need no longer hide.
I heard you cry aloud silently inside.”

2-3-2019 Sunday
Written by Gail Brookshire
“But I will sing of thy power; yea, I will sing aloud of thy mercy in the morning:
for thou hast been my defence and refuge in the day of my trouble.”

– Psalm 59:16 KJV

Shut Swinging Doors

Politics, friends, and rules.
Life is just chaotic.
Just when you think you get it,
You never really got it.
Understanding anything is a challenge
In these days which we live.
There is just so much we have to take
From those who refuse to give.
Shoes, socks, toothpaste…
Are they things we really need?
We can’t protect or clean ourselves.
We still have to cry and bleed.
You don’t understand my message?
I really don’t care if you do.
I’ve gotten past trying to talk
Or giving the benefit of the doubt to you.
You don’t care for my troubles
Anymore than I care for yours.
Let’s just be honest and leave each other alone.
Shut the swinging doors.

Written by Gail Brookshire

My World Fights

My world… it fights….
Over religion, over speech,
Over the right to protect,
Over the right to be free.
My world… fights hard…
Over persuasion, over being fair,
Over who doesn’t belong here,
Over who shouldn’t go there.
My world… fights with malice…
Over the race that no one should survive,
Over who should be spared,
Over not taking even unborn life.
My world… fights gloriously…
Over ethics and rules to the game,
Over losing with dignity,
Over honoring a name.
My world… it fights…
And it fights to rule the world.
They claim it’s all for peace,
Yet all they do is quarrel.

3-4-2002 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: Love, War, and Peace

People Are Scary

People are so scary.
They hurt you, betray you,
And change your life forever.
Whether good or bad.
They put on such faces.
A smile can hide a killer.
A wink can hide deception.
What does it really mean
To trust someone
When we really never know anyone?
It is so scary to trust,
To even know people.
They can be so evil.
And even when they are good,
They can come with expectations
That I will not be mean or evil,
And that I cannot guarantee.
That is even scarier.
I am a person.
People are so scary.

10-30-2000 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire

Silence, A Hero

A lot of people think that the best way to survive a tragedy is to cry for help, but as some of us learn, silence can be the lifesaver. As a young girl, Jodi Manners entered childhood in tragedy. A maniac grabbed Jodi from the sidewalk she was walking on, threw her into a dark van, and raped her innocent body. He then drove a dagger through Jodi’s arm, begged her to scream for pleasure, and smile when she cried. Continuing to cut her young flesh, the maniac told Jodi to let the evil run out of her wicked body, and laughed as she bled.
After the maniac enjoyed his pleasure of Jodi’s pain, he took her to a place far away and threw her into a room with a bunch of girls.They were crying, bleeding, and some lifeless. They laid all over the place bloody and scared, tied to poles and chained to walls, and begging for mercy. There was no telling how long they had been there or how long this had been going on.
Soon after seeing this and being a part of this continuous nightmare, Jodi noticed the violent torture always occurred when the maniac would rape his victims and become outraged when they screamed. He always told them, “You sound like a whore when you beg for my touch.” Then he would torture them until they stopped screaming; even if it meant death. It was something Jodi found it hard to “get use to.”
Finally one day, when the maniac dragged Jodi outside where he had slaughtered some of the young girls, he tied her to a tree and told her she was next. Jodi noticed her hands were slipping from the rope and prayed inwardly for a chance to run. As the maniac laid the shovel he was digging her grave with down and turned to pick up the bodies of the other girls, Jodi grabbed for the shovel and swung it into the back of his head and ran. She didn’t look back to see if he was dead or anything.
Jodi made it to safety far away and was picked up off the streets by the law. After growing up in a group home, Jodi healed on the outside and grew on the inside, alone. She never told anyone about the tragedy; instead she excused her scars as abuse from a home from which she ran away.
Some people would think Jodi needed to open up and tell someone about the tragedy she completely understood, but in this incident, Jodi is the only one who understands the cost of crying for help. So don’t always assume that counseling is the best thing for everyone because if the only thing that can harm someone is opening up about something only they know, it’s better off left alone as the owner’s secrets to deal with.

1-15-1993
Written by Gail Brookshire
Inspiration: Narrative assignment for professor and friend S.J.
There was a mutual profound silence after her remarks regarding this paper meant as a challenge to me because I was a silent person. I was surprised by the unique friendship I found in her supportive silence. I had no idea she thought so much of my writing.

Wicked and Wakened

Wicked and wakened.
The world was willingly wild.
I tried to ease the agony,
But the control belong to a child.
It was such a horrible thing,
The way the world was on top.
With the opportunity to kill someone,
I guess no one’s to say, “Stop!”
So why are you still here?
Did you forget something?
What was the original play?
I want to keep something.

9-17-1992
Written by Gail Brookshire

Buried In Love

As the rain to the soil,
My tears are pouring down.
My knight has lost the battle.
He lies here on the ground.
I cannot wake his wounded heart.
He will not lift his eyes.
Oh, my soul is aching now.
My heart is paralyzed.
Someone take away my pain,
And restore the life of my knight.
My world could never dawn again.
I’m imprisoned within the night.
By his side lies his sword.
I draw it back to lance.
I fall upon his lifeless soul.
We become a buried romance.

3-4-1991 Monday
Written by Gail Brookshire