Mother Rabbit

It makes perfect sense that 3+years ago when I started discovering my daughter's poems as a senior in high school that the amount of pain in her words has taken me all these years to go over and over until I could read her pain without horribly breaking down (and yet, right now I am right back to breaking down) and it was my soul that literally has tried to carry every single ounce of all her pain, anger, sorrow, loss and everything she never had to go through to and attempt to absorb her everything into me and just make it all stop and go away and so she should can be better and just heal. It was reading her direct poem about me (Mother Rabbit) that was the first poem of hers that I concentrated on because all her other poems was indirectly related to me and everything else that she went/going through almost her entire childhood after age 6 with me completely erased out of life except 92 hours. I fought for her life with my life as did a world but so horrifically her words in her dark poems are so sadly what no one could stop. THAT is/has/was so extremely much harder for me to process as her Mother what she was going through than WHAT she came to believe who I am... who I was... who she so sadly doesn't remember and now believes THIS IS HER MOMMY. THIS poem "Mother Rabbit" is who who she 100% now and has for a very long time believes who I am as her Mommy. It's so incredibly devastating. All of it so devastating. While I know almost the 360 degree universe what almost all her poems consist of by her words, the events, the decades, PA Experts matching her very specific words to their words about alienated children and HER World DESCRIBED by HER SAME WORDS... these other poems was/is more painful in the long run and in the end. Her Mother Rabbit poem is almost entirely 98% of me not having any understanding or any clue what she is writing about or why she believes what she feels except for the one line in her poem. "All because she couldn't handle the responsibility." The word RESPONSIBILTY is one out of 6-7 parroted words taught and brainwashed to her weaponized in a very specific smear campaign used through a decade of the courts.

I knew this was going to take a long time to go through everything and while the most important thing to do in my life and my daughter's life is to fully go through everyone of my daughter's poems.

I haven't even gotten to her poem Mother Rabbit yet. And that's okay. I really didn't need to hysterically cry. That's stupid I just said THAT. Because I NEED to cry as much I need to.

I KNOW this The day he took her I had no idea what to do and the the only thing I could think of was go to the Mall of America and bought 2 Christmas tree ornaments and 2 cards... One said this:

The other said, "IF YOU'RE STILL GOING THROUGH HELL...KEEP GOING". While I took that one done, the one above is still up in my home.

I still have a really hard time saying, now expressing what I WENT THROUGH. The pain with me losing my baby girl. For over a decade in this joke of these courts that put through my daughter through this... knowingly through their entire game... this father knowingly with no care what this innocent little child went through just to make this look legal. Anytime I tried to stand up for myself in court they would keep her and take her for even longer. SheHASaMother has been MY WEBSITE for MY HEALING and for MY PAIN since 2016 and I still fear talking about how I HURT! And I have a lot of guilt about thinking of me in any of this. If I didn't say I certainly mattered as her Mother it could had been different. I try to not go there because I know how very much I mattered as a person, a Mother and a human being.

I AM PAUSING WITH THIS RIGHT HERE BECAUthe couple of last hours. SE I NEED TO TALK TO MY THERAPIST.

Mother Rabbit

Mother rabbits eat their young

When they sense danger

Or when they cannot provide

For their litter anymore.

My mother didn't eat me

In the literal sense

But she consumed me

In other ways.

She devoured my dreams

Tore apart my aspirations

And chewed on my self-worth

Until there was nothing left.

She feasted on my potential

Until it was just a memory

And swallowed my confidence

Leaving me empty.

I was once her precious creation

But now I am just a shell,

A hollow carcass of who I could have been

All because she couldn't handle the responsibility.

Like the mother rabbit,

She saw me as a threat

To her own security and comfort

So she devoured me whole.

The wounds still remain

Raw and bleeding, never quite healing

The pain lingers on, a constant reminder

Of what was lost, of what was taken away.

And though I try to move on

To let go of the hurt and the anger,

The memories of her devouring me

Haunt me still, in the darkest hours of the night.

For even though I have rebuilt myself

And forged a new path, a new life,

The scars of her consumption remain

A testament to the sorrow and the loss.

So I mourn the person I could have been

The life that could have been mine,

And I grieve for the mother who devoured me

Leaving nothing but sadness and regret behind.

My Daughter's Poems. Her Own Words.

It's been almost 4 years since I miracously found my alienated daughter's poems on my parental portal from her senior year of high school as her last final homework submitted before she graduated including her drafts of her other poems that she worked on for her entire senior year. There are maricles then THERE are maricles. First because nobody but myself would know or understand what she was actually writing about or understand what she was talking about. Then the fact that there are only a handful of other homework assignments besides kingerdten that I had only seen from 1-12th grade and never as an entire long assigment from start to finish besides her poems. These are her words. Very sad words. Very beautiful words. Very emotional words.

I am so proud of her and I am so sad for. I am crying again by adding her sad flower drawing she made right before he took her.

.

Artist Statement

As an artist, I value creativity and the freedom to express myself in whatever way I see fit. I find inspiration in the world around me, especially in the people and experiences that have shaped my life and my perspective. I value the power of poetry to connect people and to bring them together in a shared experience that is specific to every person. I believe that art has the power to inspire, and to transform the world around me. As a poet, I feel my role is to capture the beauty, the horror, the exhaustion, and complexity of life in a way that will resonate with others. I seek to illuminate the human experience in all its light and shadow, to explore the depths of the human heart and soul. And in doing so, I hope to inspire others to see the world in a new light, to feel more deeply, and to connect more fully with the world around them.

My process of creating these poems was to first jot down all of my thoughts that I had during the days. I then listened to music and wrote down things that resonated with me, ideas, concepts, and words that I associated with those songs. After that I just started messing around with some ideas, usually writing the premise of the poem first, then diving deeper. I tend to write the first thing that comes to my head and then slowly edit it from there. The poems that I wrote all have different premises that I wanted to be able to coexist and share a space. I wanted to make a bunch of contrasting pieces that alternated between light feelings and tones to dark ones. I wanted to show the “ying-yang” of life— the good and the bad. I wanted the contrast to be uncomfortable and uneasy.

Many things influenced my work. For my darker works, I mostly draw from personal experiences and my perspective on the world. For the lighter poems I tried to look at the world in a perspective that I used to have. One of a child who only sees the good. I wanted to have opposites attract for this manuscript. I definitely draw a lot of inspiration from nature and also the idea of childhood and fairy tales. I am very proud of my work. I only hope people feel the emotion and depth in what I was trying to portray.  I hope that people will take away from my poems the complexity of life. I want people to see and to feel the exhaustion that comes from being able to see so many perspectives of the world.

time                              

i’ve seen rundown gods

left with the details of ash

i’ve seen strident freaks

banging against heaven

keeping vigil

yet turning the other cheek

so yes,

perhaps i’m searching for what to say

and i am filling up the time that is left

with fear of what's not there

it's of no use

this is what is                                           

it's only that it's gonna hurt

and i don’t mind the pain

but don’t worry

i’m not scared

i can’t wait to see

rundown gods

left with the details of ash

trident freaks

banging against heaven

keeping vigil

yet turning the other cheek

Succubus

In the woods so dark and deep

Lies a cottage, one must not sleep

For inside dwells a succubus vile

Her presence is felt for miles and miles

Surrounding her home, mushrooms grow

Fantasy creatures in the shadows below

Their eyes gleam with a wicked glee

As they spin dreams of what might be

But these are not harmless figures of fun

For they are servants of the succubus, every one

Luring in unsuspecting prey

To this den of evil, where they'll stay

Once inside, the victim's fate is sealed

For the succubus's touch cannot be healed

She feeds on their very essence

Their will, their soul, their very presence

And so, the cottage stands alone

A place where darkness has made its home

Beware the mushrooms and heed this call

Stay away, or risk losing it all.

helpless

                    how vicious this unkindness is

          how cruelly vicious

             as you're mourning the day after

                 whilst i am contending with a past replayed

           battling memories of earlier nightmares

                  i wasn't made for this god awful madness

                i wasn't made for this intense melancholy

         why did i wake up screaming?

         is there nothing more we can do,

to make it stop?                                                                                             

                               this rough draft of

                   an indecent aggression

           carrying on in this way                                                                            

                      could it really be?

       i guess it's a sad affair

                    heartache has put everyone on notice

          going from here to there

   with no one real around anywhere                                           

                     an unmeasured mediocrity

  with broken parts

         an unendurable craziness

  by all accounts

      it's in no one's hands

Princess Castle

Ballgowns trail and twirlIn the grand halls of a castle,

As you race through the corridors,

Your gown fluttering behind you with the breeze.

The fabric shimmers and whispers

As you tread with the poise of a princess,

Feeling powerful and elegant,

A smile on your lips and a glint in your eye.

The scent of fresh books wafts through the air,

As you make your way through the library's stacks,

The pages alive with knowledge and wonder,

A sanctuary for the curious mind.

With your ballgown enveloping you,

You feel the magic of the castle stir

,A tapestry of history and mystery,

A world of enchantment to explore.

So dance through the halls and rooms,

In your ballgown's flowing waves,

Let the castle's spirit embrace you,

And the thrill of adventure fill your heart.

Apocalypse

As the crows circle high,

Foretelling the end of time,

The sky of red and black dye,

A bloodstained hue void of design.

The apocalypse is here,

Its wrath unfurled upon the earth,

The end is nigh, we fear,

And we face the oblivion of our worth.

No more do we stand tall,

No more do we rule the land,

We witness the crumble and fall,

As we're consumed by the apocalypse's hand.

Our blood taints the ground,

As we fight in vain,

Against the end that's found,

And the coming of eternal pain.

With each passing moment,

We slip further into the abyss,

Our fate marked with torment,

As we face the end with no bliss.

The crows scream and screech,

As they feast on death and gore,

Their darkness beyond reach,

A dire omen for us to deplore.

In the end, all fades away,

No trace of what we've been,

And in the silence we lay,

Mere relics of a world that's been.

Autopilot

Days blur together in a routine haze

As I wander through life,

lost in a daze

Trying to find my place, searching high and low

But everything feels distant,

like a faded glow,

A bystander to my own existence,

a show.

Living on autopilot,

 feeling dissociated

A life that's muted, yet still so complicated.

Lost in the crowd,

like a stranger, underrated

I yearn to break free, to be seen and

heard

To be more than just a bystander,

a blurred image

 in a world where identity's slurred

My true self hidden behind a mask

A jumble of identities,

a daunting task

Looking for a way to belong, to fit in

But the more I try,

the more I spin,

Lost in the chaos, searching for kin

I want to be perceived in a certain way

To be understood, to have something to say

But my identity's vague,

 like a dream that won't stay.

Mother Rabbit

Mother rabbits eat their young

When they sense danger

Or when they cannot provide

For their litter anymore.

My mother didn't eat me

In the literal sense

But she consumed me

In other ways.

She devoured my dreams

Tore apart my aspirations

And chewed on my self-worth

Until there was nothing left.

She feasted on my potential

Until it was just a memory

And swallowed my confidence

Leaving me empty.

I was once her precious creation

But now I am just a shell,

A hollow carcass of who I could have been

All because she couldn't handle the responsibility.

Like the mother rabbit,

She saw me as a threat

To her own security and comfort

So she devoured me whole.

The wounds still remain

Raw and bleeding, never quite healing

The pain lingers on, a constant reminder

Of what was lost, of what was taken away.

And though I try to move on

To let go of the hurt and the anger,

The memories of her devouring me

Haunt me still, in the darkest hours of the night.

For even though I have rebuilt myself

And forged a new path, a new life,

The scars of her consumption remain

A testament to the sorrow and the loss.

So I mourn the person I could have been

The life that could have been mine,

And I grieve for the mother who devoured me

Leaving nothing but sadness and regret behind.

The Acts

The first act was a struggle,

As I tried to keep up the facade,

The pain inside was too much to handle,

But I kept performing, acting,

Applaud.

I tried to reach out for help,

But my cries were ignored,

So I hid behind my magic,

And kept my sadness stored.

As the second act began,

My desperation grew,

I felt so lost and alone,

And didn't know what to do.

I tried to make sense of it all,

But the darkness closed in,

And as the audience watched me perform,

I knew I couldn't win.

I started to prepare for the end,

And rehearsed it every night,

For the final act was looming,

I knew I had to get it right.

For the final act, I will disappear,

And end my pain and sorrow,

My final trick will be my last,

And I'll be gone by tomorrow.

The crowd watches in silence,

As I step onto the stage,

My heart is heavy with sadness,

As I take center stage.

I take a deep breath, and begin to speak,

And the audience leans in,

But as I say the final words,

I feel my life start to dim.

And with a wave of my hand,

I disappear from sight,

The crowd is stunned and confused,

As I fade into the night.

***Annotation from high school classmate – Another powerful extend metaphor. I can only hope there is no literal truth to this poem? Can we talk about it?

A Spark Ignites

Uncontrollable urge To touch and feel

To grab

To hold on tight.

A chemical reaction Uncontained.

This heat consumes our every thought. The fire that burns bright

Drives us

To seek the warmth of skin. A passion

Without distraction.

Earth’s Gifts

Raindrop. Graceful, falling.

Nourishing the earth’s thirst. Refreshing, replenishing, giving-- Life.

Shipwreck

Life is a shipwreck,

and we are the hapless sailors lost at sea.

Our dreams, once hopeful beacons,

now lead us astray into treacherous waters.

The storms of adversity batter us relentlessly,

tearing our sails and drowning our spirits.

The reefs of challenges puncture our hull,

leaving us adrift and broken.

With each passing day, our will to persevere diminishes,

as we succumb to the weight of despair.

The stars above, once guiding lights,

mock us with their distant, indifferent gaze.

Our journey becomes a futile struggle,

devoid of purpose and meaning.

Peter Pan

In a realm untethered, where dreams take flight

Peter lingers, a symbol of eternal sprite

He, the embodiment of unyielding youth

An analogy, elusive, yet seeking truth

His shadow dances, a silent companion

Reflecting desires, in endless expansion

With innocence's cloak, he wanders afar

Guiding seekers to their innermost star

Stained Fingertips

Stained fingertips,

marked by the artist's touch,

Colors and pigments,

each stroke with such

care and precision,

brought to life on canvas,

Expressing emotions,

their meanings vast.

Each hue a feeling,

each smear a thought,

Mixed with passion,

so intricately wrought,

A work of art,

 a piece of the soul,

Stained fingertips,

bearing the toll.

They tell a story,

of journeys embarked,

Of challenges faced,

of triumphs remarked,

The artist's hands,

their tools of creation,

Leaving behind,

stains of inspiration.

Siren’s Song

Amidst the rocks,

the siren sings her song.

A haunting melody that fills the air,

her voice,

a lure that draws the ships along.

Her beauty,

fierce and wild,

can do no wrong.

A temptress in the depths beyond compare,

amidst the rocks,

the siren sings her song.

Her hair,

a tangled web,

where seagulls throng.Her eyes,

a sea of blue,

beyond compare.

Her voice,

a lure that draws the ships along.

Her song,

a mournful cry,

both sweet and strong.

A melody that sailors cannot bear,

amidst the rocks,

the siren sings her song.

Her heart,

a fathomless abyss,

so long.

A love that cannot be,

nor can repair.

Her voice,

a lure that draws the ships along.

The sailors' fate,

to crash upon the throng,

to meet their end amidst her deadly lair.

Amidst the rocks,

the siren sings her song.

Her voice, a lure that draws the ships along.

Kiss of Nature

Whispering spring breeze,

Cherry blossoms bloom with grace,

Nature's gentle kiss.

Blending of Friendship

In friendship's embrace,

love resides,

A bond so deep,

It gently guides.

From laughter shared,

To tears we mend,

In you, my best friend,

love finds its blend.

Words of My Alienated Daughter.

Writing about this is literally the hardest thing in my entire life. I am actually lost talking about this still. It's been been almost 4 years since I first discovered her words.. I want to give voice to my daughter's own words who expresses "how the crowed watches in silence." And I break down. A world tried to stop it for her. A world tried tried to help me stop it for her. She goes on to write

"I tried to reach out for help,

But my cries were ignored,

So I hid behind my magic,

And kept my sadness stored.

In the end, all fades away,

No trace of what we've been,

And in the silence we lay,

Mere relics of a world that's been"

And I break down again. I am still trying to figure out what I am supposed to do, what I should do, what I shouldn't do or do not not have a right to do. I know she wants desperately to be heard. It's not that I know it... it's that she says that! She has half a dozen+ of writings talking about everything she went through and is still going through but has no idea that it is actually parental alienation she is experiencing and talking about. Her own words are actually word for word are words stated by World-Known PA Expert Karen Woodall cited here on She HAS a Mother. She desperately DESERVES to be heard! As a silenced Mother to hear the pleading begging cries to be heard and not to be then silenced... it devestates me to my core as this tiny girl was silenced and manipulated so brutely almost her entire childhood. I can only say that I believe that I am doing the right thing by letting this little girl's voice of mine been heard. As far as I've known since 2012 studying the World-Known Parental Alienation Experts there has never been an Adult Child's WORDS heard LIKE THIS. These are her words. I still do not know if me with saying HER WORDS on my site is wrong and I am invading her privacy or if I am giving her a voice to her words. I just really do not know. I know I am still trying to talk to her about her poems and she knows that back from when she was was actually "reading" my texts but haven't for the last 6 months. I am sure I totally fucked up everything with her for saying too long that I am going to talk to her about these poems and I took too long. It just took me too long. I am convinced that is why she refuses to read my texts anymore. It devastates me but at the same time I couldn't have done it any earlier than I am ready to do it... I just should had never jumped the gun trying to rush it because I so badly wanted to be ready to talk about it all to her and that was my was biggest mistake. I am extremely saddened that I have these mistakes. I go back to PAA and read this programs words. It helps. It brings right back to Step One. I am powerless. I am so powerless.

Regardless, the missing story to this piece about my daughter's words are that she was taken at age age 6-1/2 a little after 2 weeks after starting First Grade. It is very important to say that I had a chance at the end of her First Grade when she pull out of her desk giving me her First Grade Journal she wanted me to have (important). In grade school there were many issues with her principal and this court order parenting consultant refusing to give me her school records until I found out the federal law. Went on to be refused school nurse records/notes and the school's technician verified her records weren't delivered to my parental portal. BUT in her senior of of high school's creative writing class I was delivered her start to end 12th grade year long class assignment and final writings of about a dozen poems that devastated me and never made me prouder of her as THIS IS WHAT I TAUGHT MY LITTLE TO NEVER, NEVER, NEVER STOP saying your truth to everybody and every way you can until you are heard! I said that to her before she was even 4 years old and she was so traumatized by this father that I only could only believe she had been molested by a stranger and after time she was able to say that it was her dad telling her that Mommy was having psychotic mental episodes.IT'S SO HORRIFIC. I STILL BREAK DOWN.

I will share her artist statement. Everything else will be under the advisement of my therapist and my own advisement.I really do not know what to do and am looking at my new therapist to walk me through this. There is more I have to to add but I am trying to take this one step at a time.

Artist Statement

As an artist, I value creativity and the freedom to express myself in whatever way I see fit. I find inspiration in the world around me, especially in the people and experiences that have shaped my life and my perspective. I value the power of poetry to connect people and to bring them together in a shared experience that is specific to every person. I believe that art has the power to inspire, and to transform the world around me.

As a poet, I feel my role is to capture the beauty, the horror, the exhaustion, and complexity of life in a way that will resonate with others. I seek to illuminate the human experience in all its light and shadow, to explore the depths of the human heart and soul.

And in doing so, I hope to inspire others to see the world in a new light, to feel more deeply, and to connect more fully with the world around them.

My process of creating these poems was to first jot down all of my thoughts that I had during the days. I then listened to music and wrote down things that resonated with me, ideas, concepts, and words that I associated with those songs. After that I just started messing around with some ideas, usually writing the premise of the poem first, then diving deeper. I tend to write the first thing that comes to my head and then slowly edit it from there.

The poems that I wrote all have different premises that I wanted to be able to coexist and share a space. I wanted to make a bunch of contrasting pieces that alternated between light feelings and tones to dark ones. I wanted to show the “ying-yang” of life— the good and the bad. I wanted the contrast to be uncomfortable and uneasy.

Many things influenced my work. For my darker works, I mostly draw from personal experiences and my perspective on the world. For the lighter poems I tried to look at the world in a perspective that I used to have. One of a child who only sees the good.

I wanted to have opposites attract for this manuscript. I definitely draw a lot of inspiration from nature and also the idea of childhood and fairy tales.

I am very proud of my work. I only hope people feel the emotion and depth in what I was trying to portray.  I hope that people will take away from my poems the complexity of life. I want people to see and to feel the exhaustion that comes from being able to see so many perspectives of the world.