Dr. Denisha Shah , DO

Ode to NO MORE TEARS, every heart’s deepest plea
A glorious path of truth, light, and beauty
Created by a noble-n-ethereal Pakistani
Transforming broken hearts into an everlasting story
Planting seeds of divinity, from SOMY (SO-ME) to Infinity

Ode to NO MORE TEARS, every heart’s desire tree
Cold hearts or warm hearts, there’s no entrance fee
Serving with gratitude, on or off duty
Transcending all conflicts of race, gender, and religion into a miraculous victory
Planting seeds of divinity, from SOMY (SO-ME) to Infinity

Ode to NO MORE TEARS, every heart’s honoree
The perfect guide to earning the license of bliss, love, and serenity
Expanding hearts with loyalty on the road of royalty
Always discovering treasures of the heart as trustees, an eternal guarantee
Planting seeds of divinity, from SOMY (SO-ME) to Infinity


Amor sin violencia

By Dr. Ana Nogales, PhD

Sueno de todos
Amar y ser amado
Encontrar el amor en cada lado
Vivir la locura del momento
Sentir tu piel en mi hirviendo
Oler el perfume de tu cuerpo
Desprenderme del mio al tiempo

Elevar el misterio de mi alma
En un beso encendido al alba
Decirte cada manana que te amaba
Era la profunda emocion que clamaba

Pero asi como el fuego se apaga
Tus modos congelaron mi ansias
Confudiste el amor con violencia
Y mataste el amor de mi inocencia

Growing a New Heart

By Jac Patrissi


We gathered together the flowers that grew after the fields were razed.
We made them into a tincture called Possibility.
Drop by drop, we serve this tincture—each drop says,
It is possible:
To grow a new heart. Like a womb that has carried a baby, it will secretly be bigger.
It is possible:
That the cement and stone that has become your body will crumble softly, the doors will open, the light and air quietly dancing through.
It is possible:
That tough the lion is long gone, you can stand on the tongue in the mouth of the one that still lives in your head and say, “You can’t bite me anymore.”
It is possible:
To laugh again, with the brand of humor that honors everything outrageous and absurd about our loses—like the woman in a shelter surrounded by her worldly possessions encased in Hefty bags who remarked, “At least I’ve finally got matching luggage.”
It is possible:
Though it is a bargain no one willingly strikes
To have wisdom where innocence once lived.
It is possible:
To accede to ethical leadership without losing your freedom.
To taste the sour fruit of mistakes but to remain at the feast, knowing there’s still a place at the table for you.
To hold up to the light the prism of an opposing viewpoint without feeling the press of moral vertigo against your person.
And finally, it is possible:
To find gratitude, as we have for each of you now.
We are grateful for the healing that has shown us
yours is a fine that can’t be put out.
And because the world is incomplete without you well and whole,
survivors among you, all of you,
keep going
keep going.


A Poem by Javed Akhtar


Jiski aankhon mein hai jagmagati hui jaise gehri sharafat ki ik roshni
Jiske andaaz mein ek tehzeeb hai
Jiske lehjay mein narmi hai, shabdon mein tameez hai
Jiske dil mein bhi aur jiski baaton mein bhi aurat ke vaastey poori izzat bhi hai, poora aadar bhi hai
Jisko aurat ke tann mann ka, jeevan ka sammaan hai
Aurat ke aatm-sammaan ka jisko har ik pal dhyaan hai
Jo kabhi ek pal bhi nahin bhoolta, ...aurat insaan hai
Jisko apni bhi pehchaan hai
Jismein shakti bhi hai
Jismein himmat bhi hai
Jismein gaurav bhi hai aatm-vishwaas bhi hai
Jo agar saath hai
Jo agar paas hai
uske hone se aurat ko apni suraksha ka ehsaas hai
Woh jo aurat ka ek sacha saathi hai, ik dost hai, ek humdard hai
Sach toh ye hai
wohi Mard hai


Kyra Lee
November 2007

My Name Is Sasha
My Sister Is Leigh
I am six
And she is three

Our dad's always mad
He screams and he yells
I don't think he likes us
It's easy to tell

Mum's only kind
When dad's not around
And when he is home
She hardly makes a sound

Mum's always out,
Never home
Dad's always drunk,
And always alone

As soon as we hear
Those jingly keys
We run and hide
We run and plea

We find a place
And curl up tight
I hold her hand
And she holds mine

And soon enough
Dad then walks in
Don't make a sound, don't say a word
I pray inside, deep within

But Leigh, she cannot help herself
For the pain is just too much
"O-God" she yells
"Why are you so mean?"

He doesn't like what she has said

 And beats her even more
And with one last hit
Hard and strong, he pulls away and watches

She takes one last Gasp of air
Our hands still holding
Then falls to the ground where I sat
And doesn't move a muscle

I stare at him
My eyes so blue
He looks at me
And yells "O you!"

"How dare you
Make me so mad
This is all your fault
Go cry be sad!"

My name is Sasha
My sister is Leigh
I am six
And my beautiful sister was only three

That day my Daddy
Murdered her
My best friend
She was my world

We stuck together
Through thick and thin
But now she's gone
I'm lost within

When I was six my sister three
My Daddy murdered Leigh
Since that day I have not spoke
For it's speaking that made her die.

Stolen Innocence

© Kristelle Taylor

October 2009

I sat alone . . .
Unwanted, unloved,
Crying for little more than
A fragment of love.

Darkness embraced
The world I lived in,
Consuming each breath
Of light within.

Broke THROUGH you did,
Through darkness and chains,
Freeing me so, from the
Sadness and pain.

Awakening MY heart was,
From its deep sleep.
Yearning to soar and
Feel complete.

Loved and valued;
Tears in my eyes.
God heard my prayer,
Answered my cries.

YOU gave me wings,
And will, to fly . . . .

BUT that was then,
And what became,
Was another story
Or was it a game?


Love and trust
I had so come to know,
Meant nothing anymore

Let me escape
This world of pain;
Draw my life's essence

From every vein.

Take me to a world
Beyond the veil,
Where I can be loved;
AND TRUTH prevails.

A young girl's innocence,
Had long time gone.
Afraid to now live,
To carry on.

At age 18
It was all too much,
Alone and abused
I'd had enough.

Many the questions
I asked in my head;
Why would you do this?
What right did you have?

31 years I am today.
As I reminisces
my life away.

I also write to tell you of this
Of how I suffered, the wrongs you did.

Times heals all
Is what they say.
But remain, THIS WILL with me
Till my dying day. . . .
Of how someone I loved . . . .

Stole my innocence away . . . .


Christine Hagion

Spring 1985
Victims of domestic violence often feel trapped in their relationship.
This poem addresses the feelings of yearning for freedom from abuse.
Long ago,
A woman in love existed
free, and softly
I, the butterfly
with golden wings
flew into the trap of your open arms,
attracted and enraptured by your spell.

With seductive mystery
you spun the cocoon,
enveloping me within your love,
lulling me to complacency
with your sweetly disguised whispers
till I regressed to the poise of a caterpillar
with nonexistent grace,
lethargically inching along
going nowhere
but to hide in the leaves....

And deep within my heart, I yearn
to fly free again
alone and unhindered
high in the sky,
touching the clouds
exploring my world
rediscovering myself in the
metamorphosis of growth.

I, the butterfly
a creature of beauty
and capable of flight, I
break through the smothering cocoon
and take to my wings
to fly among those free in heart.

The Letter To My Abuser

Poem written by Kath
© 2002 Kath


There was so many things I wanted to do
To let you know today how I feel about you
I didn't Know how or where to start
So I will just try to write what I feel in my heart
First I want to let you know I forgive you for what you did to me
The things you took away from me starting with my memories
All the missing years that you have caused me to bury so deep inside
For all the days I lived in terror and for all the nights I cried
The separation from my family because you always made me choose
The friendships I could have had and the ones you made me lose
Our little baby that didn't make it because of all her mother's stress
The guilt I felt each time I failed when I tried to do my best
The times you told me I was nothing and only you would want someone like me
The hell I put our children through because your control had made it hard for me to see
The pain I felt when you would hurt me because you said I had did things to make you get upset
The way I felt so useless because no matter what I did my love you never would accept
Then there are the good things that' came about from all those years of strife
The strength you caused me to have and the way it has helped me to change my life
But I thank you most for our three children for without you they would never be
And I would have missed out on all the joy each one has given me
So today I had to write this letter to you and try to move on and get pass all my pain
For now I have come to realize when I put the past behind me I have so much more to gain
I only wish that one day you too can moved pass all your insecurities and fears
And come to realize you don't have to force love its comes from knowing someone cares


by Angela Jenkins

I don’t know how to make you see
How your actions have affected me

Your old enough if you want to drink beer

But I shouldn’t have to live life in fear
You know you’re violent when drinking a fact
Why should I tolerate your physical attack?
Three nights ago, when in a drunken fit
It was me while pregnant you choose to hit
Blows to my stomach, knocked to the floor
Caused me to race to the emergency room door
You knew I was pregnant our child I carry
But your assault on me, caused me to miscarry
I can’t ever forgive you, for what you’ve done
Because of the violence, we lost our daughter or son

I got Flowers today

Allen Dowdell

I got flowers today. It wasn't my birthday or any other special day. We had our first argument last night. He said a lot of cruel things that really hurt me. I know he was sorry and didn't mean the things he said. Because I got flowers today.

I got flowers today. It wasn't our anniversary or any other special day. Last night, he threw me into a wall and started to choke me. It seemed like a nightmare. I couldn't believe it was real. I woke up this morning sore and bruised all over. I know he must be sorry Because he sent me flowers today.

I got flowers today. It wasn't Mother's Day or any other special day. Last night, he beat me up again. And it was much worse than all other times. If I leave him, what will I do? How will I take care of my kids? What about money? I' m afraid of him and scared to leave. But I know he must be sorry Because he sent me flowers today.

I got flowers today. Today was a very special day. It was the day of my funeral. Last night he finally killed me. He beat me to death.

If only I had gathered enough courage and strength to leave him, I would not have gotten flowers today.



People need to feel unique and special,
In everything they look for significance.
They try to have more money or be more spiritual
But the easiest way is violence.
Insignificant small people are poor
Because they get drunk and hit their wives.
Behind those closed doors
Are families full of lies.
Children grow up
With beaten-up mothers being their normality.
When will this circle stop
And we can live in a world with no insanity?
Don’t say it’s non’ of your business and leave
Please don’t tell me they shouldn’t fear
And they have the voice to scream
If there isn’t no one who would hear?