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Welcome to Sadie Speaks

a safe and sacred space 

Welcome to a place of healing and hope after abuse. There is a certain ‘sisterhood’ and ‘brotherhood’ among women & men who have faced the countless varieties of abuse and its onslaught.  This is a safe space to engage with a lone  woman, on the journey of Faith, who found her voice on the tip of a pen and at the bottom of a make up brush. 

 

"There is no pit so deep, that God's love is not deeper still."

Corrie ten Boom

 
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About Me

Sadie’s Not My Real Name

For years, I have written over 100 poems to try and make sense of my abuse and it’s obtrusive interaction with my real life.  In another season, I also found solace in building pottery and painting barns.  I finally decided to share my poetry and paintings in a forum that gives hope and provides sacred space for others to process pain. I founded Sadie Speaks : Finding Your Voice After Abuse with a mission to give others their voice by hearing mine. Take some time to explore the blog, read my story, and find your voice mingled in the echoes of my whispers, shouts, silence and songs.  May you find that the truth of your abuse ends with hope, tenderness, forgiveness and holding fast to Love. 

 

Lifeguards Are We

My husband is a man among men. In this blog space, I named him ‘Mr. Barnabas’ for reasons quite obvious to me, but allow me to further...

Concussed

Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence & Intimate Partner Violence; Verbal Abuse I have had this title in my draft folder for years. Shortly...

Home Should Be Safe

Another one bites the dust// And another one gone and another one gone// Another one bites the dust (Deacon, popularized by Queen) That...

The Long Winter

This week’s snowy weather reminded me of a poem I wrote in 1989 shortly after my personal ‘long winter’ which is reminiscent to a ‘long nigh

Buried

I buried it Just for you Tucked it away Where no one had a clue Pretended to be fine Let you pretend to be divine And buried myself with...

Christmas Came to My Heart

Mr. Magoo was a married man but he still wanted vows from another, from me. As a young teenager, after years of grooming, Mr. Magoo asked...

Sometimes...

Some times we add ‘forever’ to the end of our good-bye. (Un)incredible Hulk dated me for two months, beat me for five months, manipulated...

There Once Was A Boy, Poem

There once was a boy with newspaper walls I’ve heard the story many times And I imagine he would read the printed page With his one good...

There Once Was A Boy

The one story I heard oft repeated was that they once lived in a shack - more like a shanty- whose walls were merely newspapers

Borrowing from the Old

I’m sitting down to write because I want to write. I miss writing. It’s been a long time for me. Covid. Graduating a senior in high...

Repentance

That blood cries out from the ground Whose blood? My brother’s Asking God for not another Weeping black mother Over a body, covered

He Carries Me

He carries me Like a sheep in His pasture Oh so free From disease and disaster My good Shepherd is He

Help Thou My Unbelief

I do believe, but Lord--help me in the deep dark places of unbelief. Help me in the crevices of anxiety and worry and fear and doubt.

My Soul Rages

My soul rages within me When I think of you Leaving me behind With the lonely few. Without you here But gone and in the grave I feel sad,

Love Poems

And we’ll never die, Unless together---hand-in-hand--- Your body cupped against mine As we meet the Creator of us.

Lonely for You

Especially with long term illness, grief comes long before the funeral. Maybe this has been your experience in one way or another with loved

Soiled

"Gratitude is not a simple emotion or an obvious attitude. It is a difficult discipline to constantly reclaim my whole past as the concrete

Love, Instead

I want Love to awaken me. Never reaching for the snooze button. I choose to reach for Love, instead.

Old Haunts

Simply, I mean my old familiar favorite books. This, first in a series, Top 10 List is a compilation of the books that shaped me, resonated

Heaven Hears

In the midst of the loneliness In the midst of the pain Heaven’s ear hears The unspoken strain The primal cry The stoic weep Heaven listens—