Tag Archives: Ross Rosenberg Poem

Hitting Bottom: When The End Greets the Beginning (Poetry by Ross Rosenberg)

I wrote this twenty years ago, when I had hit what I thought was the bottom of my life.  The poem helped me put into words the trauma i had endured while in a relationship with a very abusive woman.  It served as a catalyst to understand and eventually heal the highly traumatic abuse I had endured.

Although the trauma of the relationship seemed to have ended, the impact of it was embedded in my psyche.  Writing the poem helped release some of this toxic energy welling up inside of me.  Writing  it also helped me create a clear boundary from where I was and where I needed to go.

 

When The End Greets the Beginning

The Fist clenched, balled tight
Waving high in the sky
Like a tattered flag of war
Firmly declaring the message of hard fought freedom

The Arm stretched higher than its length
Wanting to go even higher
But held back by its physical limitations
Desiring to support the rage of its neighbor hand

The Body tense with anxious exhilaration
Energized by the wave of spontaneous emotion
Reacting – wanting to release
Neither knowing nor understanding the electric energy

The Mind, racing with scenes of the past
Remembering the torrent of pain
Memories frozen in time – razor sharp
Unable to understand, but finally able to feel

The Heart embattled and tired
Once protected by walls made of carefully controlled rage
Cracking, crumbling, disintegrating under their own volition
Heralding the light to pass through

The Soul, confused and bewildered
Like the newborn’s terror at birth
Interpreting the beginning as the end of safety
But all the while willing to open his eyes and greet what lies ahead

Ross Rosenberg
9/22/97

Ross Rosenberg, M.Ed., LCPC, CADC, CSAT
Clinical Care Consultants Owner
Advanced Clinical Trainers Owner
Psychotherapist, Author & Professional Trainer
Author of The Human Magnet Syndrome

Creator of “The Codependency Cure: Recovering from Self-Love Deficit Disorder” seminar (and upcoming book)

SELF LOVE RECOVERY INSTITUTE                         

 

SMILING SKELETONS POEM by Ross Rosenberg. Healing from Childhood Trauma. Letting Go of the Past.

 

This poem reflects a latter portion of a healing process that many codependents, or those with Self-Love Deficit Disorder, choose to take. It illustrates the very important psychological milestone when a Codependent or SLD (Self-Love Deficient) is ready to face-down their consciously forgotten childhood trauma (repressed memories),  in order to accept the sad and lonely power it has always had over their Self-Love Deficit Disorder.  Embracing the trauma memories, sorting them out, and accepting them as one’s unfortunate but immutable history, is a crucially important and necessary milestone in one’s SLDD, recovery.  It paves way for the eventual transition from SLDD to SLA – Self-Love Abundance – “The Codependency Cure.”

 

skeleton-thumbsup-copy

SMILING SKELETONS
By Ross Rosenberg

Strolling dreamily down
a familiar street
in the direction
of places long forgotten,
I was obliviously drawn
To my childhood home.

The houses painted anew
with unfamiliar
over-grown trees,
could not hide
the memory-stained streets
of happily playing children
who never thought about
lonely shadowy figures
deprived of sweet
summertime frolic.

Like a magnet,
I was irresistibly pulled
in the direction
of my home,
where lost days,
weeks and years,
were anonymously recorded
on a calendar
that no one ever saw.

Until that day,
I had been too afraid
to revisit the rooms
long closed to me,
where broken toys
and missing game parts
were carelessly strewn
on the ruby red
matted shag rug
of my youth.

In the farthest reaches
of my lonely drenched bedroom,
the closet beckoned me
To enter its dark and cluttered domain,
to sift through
flash-frozen
aching memories
of an emotionally abandoned boy.

Among the stowed away
remnants of my youth
sat clattery boned skeletons –
“closet skeletons,”
who rejoiced at the opportunity
to dance in the light of recollection,
and finally end
their long winter of slumber.

Memories of the loosely connected parts
of the lost child
I used to be,
enervated my skeleton friends,
who frenetically discharged
the repressed electric energy
of the frightening
but dark and dreary
memories of yesteryear.

The battle between
wanting to run
or stay put,
to recover the truth –
the accurate narrative
of my youth –
compelled me to remain
just long enough
to survey the darkly lit
container of my youth.

With eyes wide open,
courageous but anxious,
I fixed my gaze
on my bony friend’s shadowy,
but kindly countenance,
and for the first time
I decided,
I am strong enough
to be vulnerable,
so that I can finally remember
my lonely-boy-self,
and absorb the unthinkable
memories of my youth.

It is time to let go.
Bid farewell
to my skeleton friends.
Seal shut
the closet of my youth
and return home,
and live gratefully in the present.

I have spent a lifetime
afraid of dark specters
residing in my closet.
Now is the time
to meld the past and the present,
into a representation
of the person I always wanted to be.
It is the right time
to release the phantom pull backwards,
while gently grasping the hand
of the beautiful present moment,
that pulls me increasingly closer
to where my self-love lies.

Ross Rosenberg
10/1/2016

smiling-skeletons-pic

Ross Rosenberg, M.Ed., LCPC, CADC, CSAT
Clinical Care Consultants Owner
Advanced Clinical Trainers Owner
Psychotherapist, Author & Professional Trainer
Author of The Human Magnet Syndrome

Creator of “The Codependency Cure: Recovering from Self-Love Deficit Disorder” seminar (and upcoming book)

 

 

 

Heaven Is In The Ripples

Seven years ago I was asked by a friend if I was “religious and if I believed in God?” As a (formerly) practicing agnostic I quickly answered:”no.” However, I defended myself by explaining that I lived my life according to universal principals of “right and wrong” (as I understood them). Because I believed that our deeds create a lasting effect on the world, I felt confident in my everlasting future. In other words, I wasn’t worried about there being a heaven or not. I told my friend that when I die, I am banking on knowing that my impact on the world will be ever lasting. My “heaven” will ultimately be the creation of the the sum total of all my actions.

I will never forget my friend’s response: he looked at me with glassy eyes, and told me how deeply spiritual I was. I didn’t see it. It took five more years to see what he meant. Such was the inspiration of the following poem I wrote.

HEAVEN IS IN THE RIPPLES

The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
An accidental offspring of a boulder
But just a very small stone.

The pebble’s place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.

The instant the pebble kisses the pond

Its signature of concentric ripples
Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
Forever altering the smooth placid surface.

The pebble creates its worth and meaning
By unleashing its unimagined power
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.

Aren’t we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
But ultimately recognizing
That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
on a path into ourselves.

It is true then:
Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
But because of actions.

Our life’s prayers our answered
Because even the smallest pebble
No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
Of those we touch.

And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.

And then we have heaven …

Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03