Bruised Knees

My knees have known Bruises. 

A spectrum of colour staining my skin as a

reminder. 

Pigments of who I am, altered at their 

hands.

Fists clenched to strike, clench, imprint.

Each stain a bolt, a language seeping into 

my essence; teaching. 

My ribs have known bruises. 

Painted, I am every female ancestor face 

first in the dirt. 

My throat has known bruises. 

I never felt so transparent as I did wearing

 lesions beneath a high collar. 

Fading, my shell returns, burying the real

 wounds beneath it. 

But I am wiser. 

Healed I am every female ancestor face 

towards the Sun.

Small Voice Secrets

Small ones, grown from her womb,

whisper secrets others don’t recall.

In hushed tones they cradle her face,

force her eyes to lock with theirs and they

remind her.  

Mother to her once, now child she carved 

with intricate detail, creation of her. 

Daughter that dries her tears, knowing

who she used to be, before this life.

Little ribs house lungs that stay steady,

heartbeat ready to share. 

Stare shared, history closer than the heat

of the fire in her heart. 

She looks her ancestors in the eye,

through the face of her daughter. 

Grandfather of her past, decades before

Her, 

now Son to the Mother she is, but he

remembers.

Soldier Soul poised, battle in his memory,

he doesn’t surrender. 

Wounds of incarnations, etched in his 

palms. 

His lips breathe the breath of war

into her subconscious and she relives his 

cry.

Trench boy, hiding in clouds of smoke,

pulse racing,

tasting fear. 

Gunshots ringing, sweat dripping, 

Angels hovering; death swallows him 

whole.

Echoes of all they used to be, carried in

his veins, 

her blood, 

the Iris of their eyes. 

Fuck Your Discomfort

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. 

(https://bruisedbutnotbroken2017.wordpress.com/2017/05/15/litrle-girl-preserved/)



I Carry Rape In My Memories

As a child, I was afraid.

As an adolescent, I was sad.

As a woman, I am furious. 

(https://bruisedbutnotbroken2017.wordpress.com/)

Instead of

rebandaging 

each wound,

I performed

open heart

surgery 

and faced every

fear

I had been

running from.

The wound was the

portal

that led to every

answer

I had been seeking. 

I Am A Growing Compilation

Sometimes I am 

nothing

but a little girl,

nostalgic for better days,

days behind me.

Sometimes my words are fierce,

my tongue sharp,

my heart like

stone.

I am a growing compilation of 

all the girls

and women

I have been. 

I am 

whole

in my

multitudes. 

Orphan Soul

Orphan Soul, behind breasts long grown, retreating, remembering her youth. 

Ribbons twisted, once around long brunette curls, now embracing thighs that have chased adventure and carried a heavier womb. 

Orphan Soul still housed behind an aged smile, still excited by stars, owning a softer voice, acknowledging her freedom.

Butterflies once filling her belly, now thrilling elsewhere, skin that has waited too many decades for a cosmic connection to reignite foreign flames within her heart. 

Orphan Soul aware now of her purpose in this world, no longer searching for answers in the skies, now seeing planets in her pupils and galaxies on her wrists, the cosmos inside. 

The Light In Death 

At 18 I lost four babies. At 19 I was heavily pregnant with my first of four children. My waters broke early but the labour didn’t naturally progress. For four days, I cried, awaiting her. 

When she was born, I heard Angels singing.

I had lost a lot of blood and less than 48 hours after she had entered this plane, I had a reaction to an infected blood transfusion and ultimately had a Near Death Experience.

I was lying there alone, one moment motionless, the next, shivering like the addict I was yet to become. 

My jaw was stiff, my teeth chattering. I felt frozen to my core.

Had I not buzzed to ask for blankets, maybe no-one would have come.

I had mistaken dying, as a breeze. 

My heart was pounding in my chest, bursting to explode, implode.

I turned my head to my newborn daughter and moaned. The sudden thought of separation clawing at my senses. 

I was afraid. 

The needle was ripped from my arm, the bag of blood that had loomed over me for hours in the sunlight, suddenly detached from me, yet coursing through my veins. 

Six faces surrounded me, blurry, fuzzy, fading.

My Soul told me it was time to rise. 

Closing my eyes, everything faded from view. The Angel I had birthed, far below me.

Immediately, I was shooting through a tunnel. I could feel gusts of winds carrying me, light as air.

Darkness surrounded me as I travelled. Until in the distance I saw a small beam of Light. The Light of Me.

A ‘still video’ played before me.. A slideshow of my entire earthly existence. A million memories relived simultaneously, time irrelevant. 

Memories I had supressed stared back at me in this different reality, no longer hidden from my awareness, crystal clear.

I could feel the pain I had inflicted on others; the shame deafening. I could see the faces of my rapists, exposed to my consciousness. 

It was painful. 

I stayed in this place until there was nothing I had not felt. 

And then there was Light.

Earthly words fail me to define this. Language is a barrier to the truth of what this was; is. 

I was free, whole, loved, loved, loved

The Love was a shock to my Spirit. I had forgotten it. 

I was enveloped, submerged in nothing but the Light and yet everything it was at the same time. 

Not blinding like the sun, not bright like a flame in my face. Calm, soft, true.

It was then I learnt you don’t need lips to whisper. You don’t need a tongue to carve syllables into existence. They already soar high above us and I heard them.

With no face, this being spoke to me.

Knowledge and Wisdom seeping into my centre, no corners to hide behind, nowhere to turn. Love was everywhere and I was Love. 

The Light told me it was time to return and the memory of my broken body crippled me. I declined. I had felt Peace and I wanted to keep it. I was allowed to stay for a little longer, I let myself sink into the beauty and drew as much of it into my being as I could steal. 

I was shown my celestial baby, waiting for me beside my empty body and I sighed.

Like all the breath I had held on to, escaped me. A deep understanding of her purpose, of my purpose

I came back to her and she has thanked me every day with a smile and eyes that know. 

For we shared this together, her and I.. Rebirth on the same day.. 

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