For five and half years, I was silent. Didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t find the words. Knew that, if I found the words, if I reported what happened, no consequences would occur for the perpetrator responsible. But I lived. I grew. I gained intellect and strength and finally found my beauty again. It doesn’t really end, once it’s over. (…) There are still days when the monster wakes” — but I am here. I am stronger than my past. I am greater than my present. And I am leaping boldly into my future, banishing shame, proclaiming love, and giving a voice to those who have been silenced. Rape is not a joke. This is the story of THE AFTER.
Tag: poem
exchange
so many voices
muddle +
sway +
battle for attention
in this
foreign land of finance
in this melting pot of backgrounds
in this
classroom full of students just
pining for acceptance.
the little things…
I remember
laying my head in your lap
and
listening to Rascal Flatts
and thinking
how lucky I am to know this guy.
you were the first person I truly trusted.
nothing much has changed.
and our lives have put time and distance and
oceans between us,
but nothing much has changed.
because i love you and you love me
and we know each others’ deepest secrets and
most ridiculous wishes
and because we talked about our funerals,
what color everyone should be wearing when we die,
what brand of whiskey everyone should toast with at the reception,
what songs should play as they lower our bodies into the earth.
and we haven’t talked in a while.
but I know that you’re doing well
and that
you’re in love
and that
you’re starting to smile again and that’s amazing
and that makes me smile too.
but I miss you.
so call me sometime?
look again.
Can you see them?
the words written across my
cheekbones,
the letters tumbling into single file,
the spaces neat and sharp and full of secrets.
Can you see them?
the shadows on my lashes,
the light bouncing around them,
the speckled grey muddling the message.
Can you see them?
the stories twisting in my hair,
the pauses dainty and soft, unbreakable,
the fears and joys and tears running like
water colored daisies.
Can you see them?
the lines and folds splicing me into
indeterminable sections,
creasing at the brow lines
and distorting the storm in
my eyes,
bruising the bend of my finger as it reaches my lip.
Can you see me now?
spirit awakened.
i can feel it stirring,
that pitter patter of rain
in my chest.
i can sense it brewing.
i can taste it,
smooth and minty and melting,
then like pop rocks,
bouncing and
bounding and
Tickling my tongue.
i can feel it blossoming,
that cool, crazy
sigh in my gut;
a rapid beat,
a sharp intake of
wealth,
a humble caress –
a note.
a melody.
a wheel,
turning and
churning and
Bursting ahead.
peace and calm and the
absence of numb,
braiding my hair,
piercing my ears
kissing and brushing and touching my cheek.
saying, “good morning, little one.
the day is young and there’s lots to do.”
so let’s get to it.
air on fire
I was air before I met you.
Floating high and free and away
But you caught me,
snatched me right out of the air
With your bulging eyes and your
Meaty mouth
And your blood stained
Heart that ticks only for
Power.
You stuffed me in
Balloons never to be popped,
No helium to let me rise.
You packed me in bubble wrap
never to be broken open by a child.
And you buried me in an old dusty accordion and never
Ever let me play.
You took away everything I was.
But you did not know that the breath of my story
Would soon be released
By another’s loving fingers
Upon the keyboard.
That a voice sighing behind the microphone stand
Would awaken a fire within my chest
So bold
it encompassed the black hole
that you punched there
With your fist.
The way you trapped me
Did not define my existence –
The word victim will not
Cage me now.
[No.]
I am a survivor.
I will rise.
I am floating.
I am free.
the musings of a miss 