Like a growl under the bed that no one wants to hear, the word rape filters through your eardrums like a blizzard.
Irritated skin wants to cover up against the thaw, the back of your head the only thing facing it.
Yet I carry shame?
“Shh, don’t speak it” I watch your eyes plead. Like the voice of truth is more painful to hear than to feel.
Fuck your discomfort.
The first and second pieces in this series are below..
Little girl, preserved.
Her legs numb, heart desensitized.
Wet grass, sharp beneath bruised skin.
Unresponsive, wisdom gained.
Little girl, magnified.
Exposed, she balances between worlds.
Consciousness expanding, wings gifted.
She practices worship.
Little girl, illuminated.
She dances to unfold, reveal, evolve.
Yellow daises tucked beneath tiny toes.
Fragile, the Gods nurture her.
Little girl, grown.
Soldier Soul, free.
Kisses of Angels stained on pink cheeks.
I Carry Rape In My Memories
As a child, I was afraid.
As an adolescent, I was sad.
As a woman, I am furious.