It Was Not Me

It was not me as I am now.
It was not me as I was then.
It was then when God was truly in me.
When God was in me, I was a young man.
A young man with hope, will and desire.
Desire to give my love and the gift of God to the ones in need.
You see, that was me.

Thus, it was not me who hurt you so,
But it was me as I was then.
It was then when God was not in me.
That is when I hurt you though.

Now I can really see it was not me, who scarred you so.
Your innocence, your trust in me, the weak moment in your life,
Was abused by me.
But that was not really me.

You have to see it was not me as I was before,
Or as I am now,
Or as I will ever be.
No! It was not me!
It was he who was not me.
It was he who will never be me.
It was he and me who hurt you so.
No! It was not really me, who hurt you.

I hear you say that it was not you who hurt me so.
You said it was not you
Who stole my innocence,
Who stole my love for life,
Who stole my respect for myself.
You said it was not you who hurt me so.

I was only a boy, ten-year-old boy when my parents abused me so.
I was weak, sad and confused.
I was hurt by someone I loved and trusted so.

I came to you to help me heal.
I came to you because God told me to.
I came to you because you said God was in you.
I came to you because I trusted you more than I trusted mysel
I came to you because perfection of love was in you.
Yes, I came to you.

Your loving tone of voice made me trust you even more.
You listened to me like no one had before.
Your touch was gentle, soft and warm.
Your touch made me feel that I was in a safe place.
Your compassion made me feel the healing in me.
Your soft gaze told me you were the God-sent man.
The man God sent to help me and others like me.

When you put me on your lap, you gave me a hug.
A hug of love, that was doubt-free.
Transcendence in me took all the pain away.
I felt safe because of you.
I felt loved once again because of you.
I felt I was a good little boy because of you.
A good boy who deserved all the goodness in the world;
A good boy with a bright future ahead of him.

But when you put your hands in my pants,
I got confused, but did not refuse to do the same to you.
For it was you who told me then:
"My sweet child you are safe here.
You are safe when you are with me.
You are loved by God in me.
It is God who sent you here,
It is God who wants you to trust me.
So my little boy do trust God in me;
And do what feels good to you."

It was you who said that the God in you
Was loving, and that He knew what's good for me.
And that God in you wants me to please you.
And by pleasing you I'll be pleasing God;
And by pleasing God my pain will go away.

But you did not say that by you touching me that way,
And by me doing the same to you will harm me even more.
You did not say that all this would destroy me so.
You did not say that your love was a lie.
You did not say that you were an evil man.
You did not say that what was in you was not really God,
But the opposite of Him.

Now that I am a grown man,
I know that trusting you was a mistake,
And an error I made.
A mistake and error with irreversible consequences.
The consequences that brought pain in me even more.
The pain, turmoil and darkness in me is now too much for me to endure.

Now you can see why I must go;
Why I must go to a pain-free place.
For the pain in me is unbearable.
Thus, I must go to a secret place,
A place of no return.

Oh my son, please do not go,
There is still hope for you.
Oh my son, it was not me who hurt you so.
Oh my son it was not me as I am now;
It was not me who injured you so.
It was he who was not me when the true God was in me.
Oh my son, please do not go.
There is still hope for you.
It was not me who hurt you so.
Oh my son, please do not go.

ZORA TEOFILOVIC

In The News:


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Vancouver Sun

Renowned Vancouver slam poet dead at 36
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Protest uses the power of paper
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American Life in Poetry: August 30
Ames Tribune
Poem reprinted from the Alaska Quarterly Review, Vol. 30, No. 3 & 4, by permission of Faith Shearin and the publisher. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as U.S. Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-06.
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Northeast Texas Poetry Reading scheduled for Sept. 5
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How can one best answer that enduring question: where are you from? How is Northeast Texas unique? Does where we live even matter? These and other questions will be at stake at the Seventh Annual Northeast Texas Poetry Reading on Friday, Sept.

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Wild Style roots, spoken-word poetry, and some creepy Cliff Martinez tunes
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Spoken-word poetry. You still with me? Because even if you have a raging aversion to wannabe Ginsbergs and Bukowskis spouting open-mic-spawned doggerel, there's something special about Charly Fasano. As a poet, he's been publishing his downbeat, ...

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WJLA

National Book Festival features poetry slam, books made into movies, top chefs
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