Reflections; Child Abuse



I was 16-years-old when I wrote this dark, foreboding piece.  It was decades before I realized I had been writing about my own abuse.  Back then I titled it ‘Passionate Death’.

Flames shoot through the darkness

Yet the darkness is not there.

Passion erupts in a mind

Yet it is a mind cold to the eye.

Ecstasy bypasses pride

Yet the pride is only a cover.

Confusion bursts through to the mind

But a mind there is no longer.


All is animal and savage

Yet a wounded animal hides.

Hiding provides no safety

Yet safety is felt there.

Blackness shrouds the mind

Yet light is all around

Death prevails above all.

Copyright 1969 Joyce Bowen

About the Author:  Joyce Bowen is a freelance writer and public speaker.  Inquiries can be made at


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