The Fortress

The poem below was something I wrote in 2009, only a year and a half into actively working on recovery. To me it's a statement of the silence and isolation that abuse often impose on it's victims. It's also a statement of the additional affects sexual abuse has on male victims. Our need to appear strong, to appear in control, and the mask of anger and distance boys and men often adopt to hide the fear and anxiety we feel inside. Our society tells us we're not allowed to be hurt, or feel pain, we're not allowed to be victims. So we often seize upon the ideas of independance, power, and anger to keep ourselves safe......   yet sadly in erecting that impressive fortress, we only build a prison that keeps us alone, in pain, and stuck without any idea how to break free and move forward into real living again.

The Fortress

Quiet and dark upon a perilous crag,

sits a lonely fortress.

Waves far below crash against it's

foundation of stone.

The cold and icy breeze blowing,

chills down to the bone.

A single snaking path narrowly

winds its way to the gate,

Crossing a precipitous bridge

over the maelstrom below.

The sky above is

clouded and dark.

A look around reveals a

myriad of colors.

All shades of black

and grey.

There is no vegetation,

no life can be seen.

For this is the lonely fortress.

Where life is unwelcome,

"Stay Away!!!" it's blackened

walls scream.

 

On approach the massive gate looms.

Fashioned of mighty wood and

reinforced with tempered steel,

It's presence raises up ominous

horrific fears.

The walls all around, are pockmarked

with murder holes, down from the heights, and up from the ground.

Hidden inside each black hole, archers

and crossbowmen await.

Watching for the slightest sign, and

their rageful bloodlust they will sate.

 

Within the gate, there's a smaller door, tiny, small, and square.

It's only opened at certain times,

and only to see who is there.

From the inside, it affords a view,

but from the outside, seeing in,

is something one cannot do.

 

Inside the fortress walls,

the colors are all dreary,

lifeless shades of grey.

Lonely and uninviting, a roaring,

and painful silence fills it's halls.

An oppressive force bears

heavily down, grasping and pulling joy and happiness beneath the dead ground.

Pools of rain... tears lie here and there, tears or pain and anguish and despair.

 

In the heart of the fortress the throne room lay.

Only here there is sound, never ending, night and day.

An endless wailing, moaning, an anguished cry.

Like an animal suffering, just longing to die.

Here, never a step has fallen, never a soul did stray.

The walls keep them all out, drive them all away.

The cry is one of anguished loneliness.

One of painful hurt and despair.

Crying ever out, to let someone near.

"Open the gates! Break down walls!"

But the ever present scream on deaf ears falls.

 

The walls and gate have not always been.

They were created to protect the one within.

But now they have become a prison.

Until a way can be found, to open the gate, and the walls be unrisen.

 

 

Submitted by a male survivor