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Diane Perna Poem
IN SHAME
When I was a little girl father brutally beat me down with such severity, and humiliation, causing me to hang my head down low in unimaginable shame.
When you saw me in public, I was so intensely misunderstood defeated and defaced; but you only looked at my shameful head down, never bothering to try empathy.
When you didn’t ask what was wrong, I felt absolute aloneness in that I could not recount the horrific details of my life without feelings of devastating loss and unworthiness; it was safer to keep my head down.
Still, today, I consider myself a mere passing shadow, meaningless to this earth, so I remain head down with the deepest shame yet, as I breathe in poison that may cause my demise.
After all the battles I fought and survived, I fear this one is my last with head down praying for God’s mercy, forgiveness and His rescue so that I will not perish in this ill-fated manner.
I implore God not to see me with grave disappointment but to graciously pardon me, and though I still cannot raise my head without shame, nonetheless, He will raise me up to the Heavens.
Finally, I remain tragically sorry for my failure to break free of this tormenting mental anguish, however, I beseech GOD and All of you to see my courage and not my failings but instead be proud of me that I fought this long, lastly I plead that you always Remember My Lonely Wounded, but Loving Heart…
I, remain, Sincerely Yours, Diane Perna
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2019
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Diane Perna Poem
CHILDREN WITH BROKEN SPIRITS
We are the children with broken spirits.
The pages of our lives have tears on it.
We are the children whose lives were isolated, violated
and shame cast upon it.
We are the children who wear our pain loudly but they
were more than cowardly.
We are the children who seemed different so they were told
to fear us.
We will no longer be children with broken spirits
but children who are lifted by the Holy Spirit.
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2019
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Diane Perna Poem
To my dear son Daniel:
STOOD BY ME
My little boy stood in front of me
shouting, “You’ll have to go through
me first when he saw I was in danger.
My boy stood by me when the
Law firm jobs crushed me into
Debilitation.
My boy stood by me when
life took us in and out of places
of extreme hardship.
My boy stood by me many
times in sickness and injury.
My boy stood by me, always
assuring: “Things will get better,
Mom!”
My boy stood strong by me
when our beloved dogs, Rocky and
Brownie went to the Rainbow Bridge.
My boy stood by me when the
deaths of my mother and brother
shut me down to nothing.
My boy big and small, always knew
when I wanted to give up, letting me
know he still needed me.
My boy says, “Never give up,
Mom, there is more for you
to do in this life!”
My boy is my hero, my savior,
an inspiration that I cannot
live without.
My last wish is for my boy to stand by me
a little longer, in case God calls me home
while we still need each other.
Love Mom
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2019
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Diane Perna Poem
JUST CAUSE
Without cause, teachers, classmates, and neighborhood kids mocked at my pitiful station of poorness and entrenchment in painful shyness, calling me dreadful names that chipped away at my soul.
At my first job as a hairstylist they sentenced me to their delusions of what this occupation represented, it was because of this evil prejudice, I suffered and quit.
Then again, as a legal secretary they postulated I was too attractive to be so highly skilled and intelligent, but it was my stanch refusal to glorify the lawyers that led to many departures.
In actuality, my New York intonation, look, and demeanor unjustly characterized me. All these outward inferences never let you know the slightest bit of about me.
I have respectfully pleaded my case, demonstrated good faith, and absolute innocence. Though these nonsensical matters are no longer a subject they continue to hold it against me.
Their verdicts were biased with no standard of proof, so my freedom and sovereignty were non-existent without any relief in sight.
Unfailingly, I’ve always held God’s beings in the highest regard, causing me perpetual sadness and disappointment. Thus, I remain a hopeless victim, from those who sought to harm me for No Just Cause.
I’ve been a pro se petitioner in all matters of my life. Nevertheless, they implacably refuse to acquit me of these wholly false and distorted allegations.
Today, I have just cause to be wary of their perverse ideas, dishonesty and ill-conceived standards. As I barely stand, trying to keep my head up, they continue to hold me in unqualified contempt.
Regardless, the childhood trauma and tragic incidents that left irreversible damage, I cry, a body wracked in pain and disrepair, nevertheless, they persist in attempts to dismiss the documented facts.
Because, I was intensely, persecuted for so many decades and always found to be guiltless but merely detrimentally naïve, it is my contention that these erroneous incriminations will never cease.
Still, society has handed me down a life sentence of injustice, bias and prevarication with respect to all factors of my life. I’ve been caused irreparable harm by their unwarranted ever damaging criticisms.
Although, I remain imprisoned by irrationally obstinate hypocrites, I have uncompromising trust that on the final judgment day God will show His most powerful exoneration towards me as I’ve shown mercy to all others.
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2021
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Diane Perna Poem
I was beaten into silence as a young
child from my father's brutalizing rage
and psychological torture.
When I was 5, a man exposed himself, to me
I ran fast terrified, no words spoken.
When I was 21 my boyfriend said, “I’m going to
F-Up your pretty face so no one ever looks
at you again, with that, I had no words.
When the ER doc urged me to tell the Police
this boyfriend fractured my cheekbone and
blackened my eyes, I had no words.
When riots broke out in high school, a large boy
shoved me against the wall, his hands on my
throat, he yelled say something, I had no words.
When several powerful lawyers I worked
with made sexual comments, I quit instead
of finding my words.
When a careless driver struck me down
altering my life, as I lay in the street,
a crowd around me, I had no words.
While visiting a relative, her drunken boyfriend
kicked me in the eye almost detaching my
retina, in court I cried, no words spoken.
At a club, drank soda, got dizzy; a guy put me
in his car, as I vomited; he threw me behind a building;
I never spoke of this attempted rape.
When my ex-husband committed
emotional & physical crimes against me,
I left without a word.
Still society has bullied me into silence otherwise
risk the harsh judgment of their punishing
remarks on my character.
Today, my words are not so eloquent,
but they contain hard truths, as
God is always my Witness.
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2018
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Diane Perna Poem
Diane Perna
BURNT TEARS
I remember a tormented childhood with
Dad’s words laced with poison and Mom
tossed acid on my tears by saying no words
to stop it and even joined it.
I remember that even though I was a small
and frail child that didn’t stop them
these parents left me to thrash about life
with their painful insults.
I remember because my spirit was crushed
I wore an unmistakable frown
the wounds of my heart were inimitable too
as was the damage to my character.
I remember Mom laughing when I swallowed Clorox
and should’ve warned it wasn’t apple cider
what I was left with was swallowing burnt tears
and always wondered if anyone could tell.
I remember my sorrowfulness like
hot molten metal running over me but
I kept it locked up and bound because
I only found judgment that silenced me.
I remember pressing on through to another year,
month, week, day and minute with the blare in my
head of the brutal belittlement so evermore
I carry the memory of those burnt tears.
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2019
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Diane Perna Poem
What if the incessant torture didn’t happen so many dark
times, but it’s unimaginable for you to comprehend isn’t it?
What if there wasn’t such violence against me, I wouldn’t have
bled on those I loved most while devastated in my poorest sorrow.
What if the sins they committed against me didn't happen I
could've in led a life without inconsolable despair.
What if my father didn’t knock me down the stairs as he spat
his poison on me, leaving me in an insufferable existence.
What if my mom protected me from the cruelty and abuse,
or showed love, I wouldn’t have hung my head in shame.
What if the kids at school didn't shove me against the wall
shouting obscenities, I could've learned to make friends.
What if my peers didn’t cause heart wrenching pain in my
teenage years, I wouldn’t have thought about ending my life.
What if that female relative didn’t kick me in the stomach,
laughing as I vomited and collapsed, I could’ve trusted woman.
What if the other female relative’s drunken boyfriend didn’t kick
me in the eye detaching my retina, I could’ve had faith in family.
What if anyone cared, after hit and run, I dragged my body and
leg cast across the floors tending to my needs, feeling utter ruin.
What if I was treated humanely in that rented room instead the
landlord locked the bathroom forcing me to go in a garbage can.
What if, my employer showed kindness as I arrived with black eyes,
instead of forcing me to work where everyone could see my shame.
What if that employer tried to help me when a car struck me, altering
my body, limping into work with a full leg cast, instead they fired me.
Despite their disgraceful abuse, I'm hopeful I can bring healing
to the demoralized by my charitable works and unconditional love.
What if these ruthless people didn’t destroy me; I could’ve been
a strong Advocate on behalf of Victims of Abuse and Persecution.
What if my words can lift up another broken person, by bringing
them the slightest hope that God will lead them to safety.
Still, though, I implore God to show His mercy and kindness
while raising me up out of this hell so I can finally be at peace.
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2022
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Diane Perna Poem
What if the incessant torture didn’t happen
so many dark times, but it’s unimaginable
for you to comprehend isn’t it?
No one knows, the tragedies that left me
so crippled, you can’t fathom, the depth of
the sins they committed against me.
What if my father didn’t knock me down
the stairs as he spat his poison on me,
leaving me in an insufferable existence.
What if my mom protected me from
the cruelty and abuse, or showed love
I wouldn’t have hung my head in shame.
What if the kids at school didn’t shove me
against the wall shouting obscenities I
could’ve learned how to make friends.
What if my peers didn’t cause heart
wrenching pain in my teenage years, I
wouldn’t have tried Drugs to End My Life.
What if that bad man didn’t expose his
genitals when I was 6, I wouldn’t have
chose men who abused me.
What if that female relative didn’t kick
me in the stomach, laughing as I vomited
and collapsed, I could’ve trusted woman.
What if the other female relative’s drunken
boyfriend didn’t kick me in the eye detaching
my retina, I could’ve had faith in family.
What if, my employer showed kindness as I
arrived with black eyes, instead of forcing me
to work where everyone could see my shame.
What if that employer tried to help me when a
car struck me, altering my body, as I limped into
work with a full leg cast, instead they fired me.
What if anyone cared, after hit and run, I dragged
my body and leg cast across the floors tending to
personal needs, feeling utter ruin and isolation.
What if I was treated humanely in that rented
room instead the landlord locked the bathroom
forcing me to urinate in a garbage can.
What if someone asked me why I was crying
at my desk when I arrived at work the day
after being drugged in an attempted rape.
What if, those attempted rapes didn’t happen
while living in Florida, night terrors persist,
once again God gave me means to escape.
What if that employer didn’t try to touch
me when he found out my father died and
I had nowhere to live and no other income.
What if that boyfriend didn’t tell me he
tried to pass his illness onto me so I’d
suffer, he failed, I fell to God’s mercy.
What if that other boyfriend didn’t punch
my face asserting he’d cause disfigurement
so no one would ever look at me again.
What if many of the people I met didn’t beat
me down so hard until I lie in blood and despair
as they murdered an already wounded soul.
What if there wasn’t such violence against
me, I wouldn’t have bled on those I loved most
while in the devastation of my poorest sorrow.
What did happen was that I never forgot
the many horrific incidents which led to a
deplorable life full of abuse and mistakes.
Consequently, I record my pain here giving
a mere glimpse into the suffocation of a
lowly spirit that remains in total darkness.
What if these ruthless people didn’t destroy
me; I could’ve been a strong Advocate on
behalf of Victims of Abuse and Persecution.
Despite their disgraceful abuse, I’m hopeful
I can bring healing to the demoralized by my
charitable works and unconditional love.
What if my words can lift up another broken
person, by bringing them the slightest bit
of hope that God will lead them to safety.
What if I wasn’t a damaged mother, there
wouldn’t be pain in my son’s wearied eyes
for having to cope with severe hardships.
I pray for forgiveness from my sweet son,
as I caused his gentle heart pain, which
will haunt me until death.
Still, though, I implore God to show His mercy
and kindness while raising me up out of this
hell to the heavens so I can finally be at peace.
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2023
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Diane Perna Poem
I confess that as a child the ruthless caused me
crippling pain with deeply wounding words and
bodily attacks that led me to falter through life.
I confess that various family member’s inflicted
incessant cruel criticisms that wholly damaged
my character leaving a soul shattered in shame!
I confess that all of these hypercritical people
painted me with a dark psyche and their evil
assumptions resulted in an imprisoned stigma.
I confess that during childhood the intolerant
labels of shy, odd and withdrawn caused me to
be ostracized while living in utter humiliation.
I confess that I pray every day to be set free from
the shackles they’ve built all around me, leading to
my many missteps for which I beg for compassion.
I confess that in elementary school, my hands were hit
until they bled for laughing. Then my father punched me
in the face for laughing destroying any possibility of joy.
I confess to having fast and frequent flashes of the
details of the horrors committed against me causing
doubt of whether I blacked out during the worst of it.
I confess to being stuck in my adolescence probably
between 6 and 12 yrs. old and can’t remove myself
from that timeline, so, I plead, how do I move on?
I confess that I’m a contrite and lowly spirit,
with innate hopes as a child of God that His
eyes will only see a gentle and broken spirit.
I confess that my brokenness is impossible to
mend due to the atrocities inflicted. I tried to be
silent for so long drowning in unspeakable hurt.
I confess to never evolving as an adult due to
severe childhood trauma, and as such, it is
necessary to speak to me as if I were a Child!
I confess to praying most urgently for the wicked
to cease from inflicting unbearable anguish on
God’s frail ones according His Word:
“Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to
sin, it would be better for him if a great millstone were hung
around his neck and he were thrown into the sea.” Mark 9:42.
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2023
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Diane Perna Poem
I confess that as a child the ruthless caused me
crippling pain with deeply wounding words and
bodily attacks that led me to falter through life.
I confess that various family member’s inflicted
incessant cruel criticisms that wholly damaged
my character leaving a soul shattered in shame!
I confess that all of these hypercritical people
painted me with a dark psyche and their evil
assumptions resulted in an imprisoned stigma.
I confess to never evolving as an adult due to severe
childhood trauma and domestic violence, and as such,
it is necessary to speak to me as if I'm a Child!
I confess to being stuck in my adolescence probably
between 6 and 13 yrs. old and can’t remove myself
from that timeline, so, I plead, how do I move on?
I confess that during childhood the intolerant
labels of shy, odd and withdrawn caused me to
be ostracized while living in utter humiliation.
I confess that in elementary school, my hands were hit
until they bled for laughing. And my father punched me
in the face for laughing destroying any possibility of joy.
I confess that my brokenness is impossible to
mend due to the atrocities inflicted. I tried to be
silent for so long drowning in unspeakable hurt.
I confess to having fast and frequent flashes of the
details of the horrors committed against me causing
doubt of whether I blacked out during the worst of it.
I confess that I pray every day to be set free from
the shackles they’ve built all around me, leading to
my many missteps for which I beg for compassion.
I confess that my broken spirit sought fairness and
kindness from everyone who I crossed paths with
but instead I found solitary condemnation.
I confess to pleading most urgently for the wicked
to cease from inflicting unbearable anguish on
God’s frail ones according His Word!
Copyright © Diane Perna | Year Posted 2023
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