Dit is een gedicht van Donatella
Tussen mijn documenten kwam ik een gedicht tegen dat ik in juli 2013 geschreven heb, toen ik nog dacht dat het aan mij lag. Het laat geloof ik feilloos zien wat het effect van gaslighting is. Het is in het Engels, in die taal kan ik mij beter uitdrukken (ik denk dat ik mijn gevoelens teveel onderdruk in mijn moedertaal). Toen ik het hem had laten lezen kwam het me alleen op spot en hoongelach te staan…
How to escape from the prison of my thoughts,
the memories that bind me to another, a different you.
The you that loved me, you lifted me up –
together we soared high into the sky, but like a shooting star I’ m falling.
And you are content to watch me fall,
cold and distant, a stranger ‘cross the hall.
How to escape the torture of looking back on what was
and what could, should have been.
How not to remember your sweet face rapt in joy over our beautiful love.
But like a migrant bird that joy has fled before the cold of an early winter,
and it looks as if that expression has gone forever…
it hates the cold so much …
The ways I might have harmed you, believe me,
it was never my intention to hurt you, I love you too much.
As it appears your intention to strike me with every painful moment,
recountings of scars on your soul,
like scarified flesh you keep the wounds open, and the scars alive and red.
You name them one by one, in an unvarying order, like beads on a rosary:
‘This one is for the time you… and that one is for when you…’
And no grace or pardon, no mercy.
For no mercy was bestowed by me on you,
so now that my tide seems to be turning,
and the head wind’s dying down
so that I might even make it to the shore if only…
If only this dragnet of past wrongdoings wasn’t holding me back,
the way it is holding you back from loving me, ever again.
How easy to remember you were always the strong one,
the bright sun that shone in my life.
You lit me up but took away your light too soon,
and the sparkle you were trying to kindle died.
It must have made you so unhappy to know that no matter what you did,
you ‘d always draw the short end of the stick with me.
Never knowing if you were coming or going, like walking on quicksand…
The early winter caught you too, and frosted your face with unhappiness.
Your eyes, too, are dead like mine, without warmth or joy.
It brings tears to my eyes to hear you laugh, for I love you so much.
I can’t bear to see you unhappy
and I know that it is not because of me you are laughing.
Somehow I’m never funny with you, now why is that?
Probably too much in awe of you, shouldn’t be, but there…
And of course I understand, because hey where does all this leave you?
But don ’t expect me to respect you after you’ve sucked the life out of me,
like a black hole drained me of my energy.
Leaving me worn out and hopeless and forlorn, you say.
It’s you that’s crazy, not me, you say.
I would give the world for a smile, some affection, a soft look in your eye…
If only you could forget to be vengeful and angry for the misery years,
and were they always misery?
It must have been spring, even summer once…