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The Whole Story
The Whole Story
The Whole Story
Ebook126 pages48 minutes

The Whole Story

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The Whole Story is an attempt to capture trauma and the changes in our thought patterns as a result. After years of complex trauma one can feel like they are drowning in unrelenting crises. This can lead to an extremely abusive relationship. The Whole Story explores how trauma can intrude on our lives when we are finally safe and happy.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 24, 2020
ISBN9780578811949
The Whole Story
Author

Maggie Bowyer

Maggie Bowyer (they/he) is a poet, cat parent, and the author of various poetry collections including Allergies (2023) and When I Bleed (2021). They are a co-host of the podcast Baked and Bookish. They have been featured in The Abbey Review, Chapter House Journal, The Elevation Review, The South Dakota Review, Wishbone Words, and more. They were the Editor-in-Chief of The Lariat Newspaper, a quarter-finalist in Brave New Voices 2016, and a Marilyn Miller Poet Laureate. You can find their work on Instagram and TikTok @maggie.writes.

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    Book preview

    The Whole Story - Maggie Bowyer

    The Whole Story

    The Whole Story

    The Whole Story

    Maggie Bowyer

    publisher logo

    Margaret Bowyer

    Copyright © 2020, The Whole Story by Maggie Bowyer

    All rights reserved.

    No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic methods without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at the address below.

    Maggie Bowyer

    Greensboro, North Carolina

     www.maggiebowyer.com

    ISBN: 978-0-578-81193-2

    LCCN: 2020923545

    Printed in the United States of America

    First Printing Edition, 2020.

    Thank You

    This is for those who lifted me

    Out of a pit of  trauma;

    This is for those who stood by me

    When my life was a sea

    Of unrelenting crisis’.

    This body of work

    Is for the me that I saved,

    To remember the me

    That I couldn’t;

    This is for me to remember

    How I arrived here -

    Wise Minded and present;

    This is my story

    Of survival

    Turned to Whole existence.

    The Fact Check

    Who said a poem

    Had to be anything more

    Than honesty?

    My values align

    More than ever

    On these pages.

    Seeking Maternal Figure

    What kind of mother

    Cannot protect her child?

    I know the fault wasn’t mine

    But dammit some days

    I cannot find the light;

    The ones in your eyes

    Used to shine so bright.

    There is truly no fault,

    Yet some days the sun

    Is burning me to a crisp

    And I remember you left your son,

    And I am here without you.

    I remember our fight

    The eve before that morning

    When you were gone without warning.

    I cannot blame you

    Because you’ve slipped

    So far from my fingertips.

    What kind of child

    Can’t protect their mother?

    I’m writing a thousand

    Different poems here,

    Yet none of them feel right.

    I’m at a loss for words,

    Searching for explanation

    Through lyrical exploration;

    When there is no reason

    There are no metaphors.

    When there is every reason

    These words crash over

    And threaten to destroy me.

    I cannot find the stars

    So far beneath these waves

    Of insecurity and mistrust;

    Their light has seemed to vanish.

    What Would Your Ideal Day Look Like?

    I sat for fifteen minutes

    Trying to answer the first question

    In none other than my own journal.

    Questions to Know Thyself

    Didn’t sound too promising anyway.

    And so I put my journal away

    And turned the TV back on.

    Without the background noise

    I’m able to hear my own thoughts,

    And that’s one way

    I don’t want to get to know myself.

    Adoring Drags

    They say I move on too easily,

    But falling in love

    Is the same as breathing for me.

    Puffing through all of the smoke,

    Coughing

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