The Cracked Mirror

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The Cracked Mirror

Her name was worthy.
She lived on abundance street, things were plentiful so was her guilt towards those with little, it was so pitiful.

With the best education in her quiver, knowledge as power was not great for it led to self debasing and the sinkhole of depression.

Showers of expressive love felt like pins and needles bruising her body as she decoded massive hate was at the pinnacle.

Words of kindness were like darts hitting her heart as she defined the glare of their eyes as cold and calculating.

Sought after by many who saw her as wise, she obliged, though hated the popular ride, so at times she would feign sickness and hide.

She rolled her eyes when her name “Worthy” was praised, crying out “why me and not them!”

Her inner self she deemed unworthy to be trapped in a life where she always felt guilty.

Escape she finally did in the cracked mirror of her destiny to create for herself a reality in that place of her preferred identity.

©️16-June2018 DEN -The Witness

Never Again

Never Again.
From her jail house soul screamed words like hardballs that hit the walls of the prison of her existence and bounced back at her with such force she fell into a deep depression, swallowed the guile of shame and felt the chains of guilt yet again!
Weeping for liberation …again.
Whingeing in frustration …again
and again…
“Mad? Who said I am mad? I have gladly left the land of OZ, the place of gourmet meals laced with poison, where exposed as mere sugar coated lies, sages’ tongues wag niceties and acts picture love”
Hmm, she had left that place…only in her dreams but not in reality it seems.
She yearned to escape the less than place under smothering commands and fearful reprimands, to the more than place of the overcomer and a realised destiny.
No more a locomotive fuelled by anger amidst the wounded masses called Reactionary.
Weeping for liberation … again
Whingeing in frustration … again
and again…
The sound of her tears dripping on the mirror beneath her face reminded her of raindrops on her window sill as she lay peaceful…once upon a time.
She looked back at self and questioned “where is that peace of yesteryears? Where?” then instead of her face she saw Chaos, that counterfeit self… that agent of confusion, that thief of her destiny… that…then she screamed.
A scream that was unlike the sound of defeat, but like a ball of fire unwilling to hit the ground lifeless, for it gained momentum, energised and thundered a command to the lifelong foe glaring back at her “DEPART!”.
As the sound echoed, she saw Chaos flee with her hangman’s noose in hand with dreadful masked cohorts in tow.
And then she knew it,
her voice once lost, regained,
her true self, reacquainted.
No more to weep for liberation … again.
No more to whinge in frustration … again.
Never again
©️April 2019 DENyamekye

Childhood knocks & knock on Effects … Awareness

(Poem – The Awakening below ) 

This is Mental Health Week UK (13-19th May) and Mental Health Month (May) USA

As we all know, there is a knock on effect to problematic issues that happen in our childhood. Thought patterns more often than not become “twisted” due to feelings of anger, revenge or seeking retaliation. Anger and negativity is projected on other people who remind one the abuser.

Some young people join gangs for affirmation, acceptance and love as a result.

The beginning of the healing process is when one realises they have a problem and are willing to confront it head on and seek help.
Hopefully bringing awareness to such issues will cause many to do just that; self-assess, acknowledge a problem, resolve to face it through options available including support. This is because without doing so the future is bleak and potential for greatness and a bright future is never tapped into or realised.

Let those of us who can do our part; Raising Awareness Saves a destiny <> Saves a life

__________**______________

The Awakening 

Razor is my man, loves me and calls me “son”. speaks to me like a Father so I joined his gang “Blades in the Hood”, sooner than later.

My boy self was chained tight to papa, crying like a sissy every night, since he slammed the door shut, his face never again to see.

I lie… I see his face still… even at night curled up like a child.

I see his face in grown men

withering in pain,

crying out,

begging for mercy,

everytime our knives and guns do their thing…target their prey.

And I hear the laughing voice in my head “pay back time!”. Feeling like superman, chains unlocked and riding high…

But …but another voice like mama’s rings louder “life is a lie, get help now!”

Life is a lie, I need help now!

©️26-12-2018 DENyamekye

If you have been affected by this poem (it reminds you of someone) and would like personal (or for someone) prayer, counselling and additional information of where to get help, please email: thewitnessinstitute@gmail.com

On Facebook ? Please like page: The Wrighteous Witness

The Awakening

Razor is my man, loves me and calls me “son”. speaks to me like a Father so I joined his gang “Blades in the Hood”, sooner than later.

My boy self was chained tight to papa, crying like a sissy every night, since he slammed the door shut, his face never again to see.

I lie… I see his face still… even at night curled up like a child.

I see his face in grown men

withering in pain,

crying out,

begging for mercy,

everytime our knives and guns do their thing…target their prey.

And I hear the laughing voice in my head “pay back time!”. Feeling like superman, chains unlocked and riding high…

But …but another voice like mama’s rings louder “life is a lie, get help now!”

Life is a lie, I need help now!

©️26-12-2018 DENyamekye

If you have been affected by this poem (it reminds you of someone) highlighting mental health issues and would like personal (or for someone) prayer, counselling and additional information of where to get help, please email: thewitnessinstitute@gmail.com

On Facebook ? Please like page: The Witness Institute

Combatting Male Deaths (Paul’s story: Dad’s Suicide) – The Movember Foundation

Excerpt from the website of the THE MOVEMBER FOUNDATION:

Our fathers, partners, brothers and friends face a health crisis that isn’t being talked about. Men are dying too young. We can’t afford to stay silent.

THAT’S WHY WE’RE TAKING ACTION.

We’re the leading charity changing the face of men’s health. We’re addressing some of the biggest health issues faced by men: prostate cancer, testicular cancer, and mental health and suicide prevention.

We know what works for men, and how to find and fund the most innovative research to have both a global and local impact. We’re independent of government funding, so we can challenge the status quo and invest quicker in what works. In 15 years we’ve funded more than 1,200 men’s health projects around the world.

By 2030 we’ll reduce the number of men dying prematurely by 25%.

NOVEMBER CHALLENGE TO MEN:

GROW A MO, SAVE A BRO

Your Mo (moustache) can inspire donations, conversations and real change.

The men’s health crisis calls for big minds, and big solutions. But there’s a smaller, hairier solution to the men’s health crisis. A solution you can Grow yourself. It’s sitting under your nose.

Grow a Mo this Movember, and you can stop men dying too young.

click for more information:https://uk.movember.com/get-involved/moustaches

Below is an excerpt from the Sun Newspaper online 22nd Oct. 2018:

PAUL MCGREGOR’S MISSION IS TO STOP OTHERS LOSING A DAD, BROTHER OR SON TO SUICIDE

We asked Paul to write a letter to his Dad to encourage other men to open up about their feelings. In association with Movember.

WE were always a close family. Mum and Dad were childhood sweethearts and only two years separate me and my older brother, Steve.

There were no signs at first that Dad would have a breakdown. Over time, however, he changed from a hardworking, loving family man into a person who felt the only solution to his mental pain was to take his own life.

During the last six months of his life he kept himself busy – as if he was running away from things. He was on antidepressants, but I didn’t realise how serious it was.

We all tried to talk to him, but he’d deny there was a problem. Then on March 4, 2009, we lost him forever.

Life after Dad was hard. I was only 18.Inside I was hurting, but on the outside I played the macho man. Two years later, I realised I was just existing. I was tired all the time.

I was diagnosed with depression, but ignored it. I tried counselling, but it didn’t work for me.

My biggest fear was that I’d end up like Dad. I’d read that people bereaved by suicide have a higher risk of taking their own lives.

Then Amy and I started dating. I had back problems so she suggested I see a holistic therapist that she knew – Ann.

At my third visit I broke down in tears and told her everything about Dad and my own suicidal thoughts. Talking to Ann over the years has helped me massively.

I had a lot of guilt as I believed that I should have done more. Now I’ve learned to forgive Dad – and myself.

Paul’s letter to his Dad

Dear Dad,

I went for a run through the woods with the boys on Sunday.

They’re growing up fast. They are nine and two now. They keep me on my toes every day.

Fatherhood is scary at times, but I’m not worried. I am so lucky to have learned from you. I know you would have loved to have been a grandad.

I know you’re watching down on us all. Mum and Steve too. I just wish you knew how loved you were.

It’s nearly been ten years since you took your own life, and I just wish you were here with us.

You’ve missed so much. I’ll be raising money and standing up to suicide for Movember this year in your honour.

A couple of years ago I started talking about Dad on on social media. I receive messages every day from people saying that they don’t feel so alone any more.

When I was asked to write a Letter To My Dad for a Movember video, it meant sharing my vulnerabilities. It’s very hard for a lot of men to open up and talk about their feelings, but I don’t ever want my children to suffer in silence.

That’s my drive and always will be. I joined up to the campaign because I want to be part of something that reaches out and talks to men.

I‘ll be growing a moustache for Movember this year and encouraging all my friends to donate too, because the work the organisation does is so important.

To get involved, sign up at Movember.com.

 

Prayer (Mental Health)

Dear Heavenly Father,

I pray for those suffering a paralysis of mind and life in general, unable to move on due to hidden childhood scars rooted in abuse and rejection which has resulted in a scarred life; attitudes and acts that continue to be damaging to them and those around them. 

Father you know what each of us has been through and goes through on a daily basis. We cannot hide anything from you. 

I ask that you heal us in our inner man, and deliver us from pretence and falsehood so that our true selves, who you created us to be would emerge fully to the glory of your name. 

For those who are yours in Christ, we desire to be effective witnesses of your kingdom so heal us completely so that we can do the good that we know to do according to your word. 

I pray that you will graciously draw to yourself, multitudes who are suffering in general and particularly in relation to their mental health, that they will find healing and comfort in your Word and the ministry of deliverance in the power of your Holy Spirit.  

In Jesus name I pray, Amen.

Man Child…Still

74DF8A8A-1CF3-4F1B-BD45-25A90478E711A poem inspired by the image (I borrowed: Author unknown) above:

The Man Child …Still

The contours around
his eyes are cracked
with smile tracks.
They hide internal
frowns, a well-worn
mask.

Speaking to please,
he engages in many a
tiresome task for
accolades and praise.

Still, his inner man
hears the voices of dread,
feels dad’s hands hitting
his head. He wants to run,
but no where is there to hide.

So he fakes strength
and a life of fun.
”Anything goes” for
ecstasy and mirth.

Still, his inner child
dreads the break of day
sits cross-legged,
head buried as in sand,
wishing he would die or be
blown away.

Still…

©️20-Oct.2018 DENyamekye

If you have been affected by this poem and would like personal prayer, counselling and additional information of where to get help, please email: thewitnessinstitute@gmail.com