“It’s important that we share our experiences with other people. Your story will heal you and your story will heal somebody else. When you tell your story, you free yourself and give other people permission to acknowledge their own story.” ~ Iyanla Vanzant

Everyone has a story to tell. I choose to share mine to inspire others to face and overcome their challenges. I used to have so many protective layers hiding in my own “cage” from humanity. The invisible cage didn’t allow me to “breathe” and fully love and embrace myself. The fake enclosure to keep me safe was an illusion stemming from the difficulties I faced during my childhood growing up in an orphanage in Russia.

My story is my “why.” It brought me to the path of the spiritual journey. I would like to dedicate this post to my story. As some of you know, I am writing my first book about my inspirational healing journey of transformation and growth.

Today, I will share with you my sacred introductory poetry to my book. It is almost at the finishing stage.

Turning Point

Once upon a time,
My life was sunny, innocent, and full of hope.
I sat on my dad’s shoulders,
Observing the enormous world from above.
I played with air balloons and my dad’s shaving razor,
But my happiness did not last long.

When I was five, my toys were taken from me,
Together with my happiness.
My home was soaked in screams and neglect,
Stale and rotten food attracted the army of cockroaches,
My belly cried.
The smell of urine tickled my nose.
Piles of nothingness and everythingness surrounded me.
Venomous spirits possessed my mom and dad,
And clouded out the sun.

My parents forgot the importance of life,
And their second child – me.
The first one, my older brother, was long gone,
Taken under the custody of a children’s institution.
Lost and forgotten.

My fate was already written.
A fat policeman strode into our yard,
And shook papers signed by a judge.
He grabbed my tiny hand,
And shepherded me away, promising a good life.

My cries and tears didn’t matter.
My parents didn’t hear my plea.
To remain in our dysfunctional family,
Was the only known comfort to me.
I so desperately wanted us to stay together.

“Why? Why? Why did this happen to me?”
My heart was ripped into pieces.
I was only five years old.

Life was harsh to me,
Or so I thought.
I ended up surrounded by abandoned kids
With their own sad stories.
Unrelated aunts and uncles were our watchdogs.

I wasn’t necessary any longer.
I was away from my only known home,
Into the hands of the welfare system.

Forsaken by my parents, just like my older brother.
It was my turn now to make something of the life
That was given to me.

As a lost wolf pup, I howled at the moon,
I wanted to be heard.
I planned to escape from my new cage.
Too small to climb over a cement wall,
Too weak to dig under it.
Trust me – I tried.

All I had left in my beating heart was hope.
Hope for the best.
Love for my parents.
A belief that we would be together again soon.
I blamed that fat policeman
For crashing my happiness.

Later, I was moved to an orphanage,
Receiving its life lessons.
Educators imparted their pearls of wisdom to us.
Such as the importance of being honest
And blah, blah, blah
I rolled my eyes and grumbled,
But I listened to every word.

Feel free to write back. I am looking forward to reading your comments.

Does my poetry want you to know and learn more about me? How does my first turning point in life make you feel? Can you relate?