opening wider

to encompass the memory of lost ones

vital in images but

~ gone ~

 left to take breath

from air thick with the litter

of indifference,

resist making flesh from synthesis

~ holding ~

 balance in the

narrowing

It’s the women

~

They build sturdy houses

dense

set too close together

Tactful queries like origami darts

traverse the narrow spaces

~

It’s the women

the older ones first

I bring them warm water

They look in their silk panties for one drop of blood. A sign?

I smell

only urine

~

My powder blue coat has stains from breakfast.

I remember when my sheets smelled like cheese

wrapped around my swollen breasts every time I dreamt

of my stolen child.

~

A mirror is still flat

even if

in it

I can see what is behind me.

~

I have left my face on the wall

no one can see my terror

~

It’s the women….the older ones first

I am young

I am nothing

~

“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

It's the women

“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

Hear me

~

You cannot return

to defile

the birthing of intimacy

within you.

~

My body is not a graffiti wall

absorbing the mark

of your disconnect.

~

The lack of boundaries you impose

will never dissuade the love

that takes us continually back to itself

as it births us anew.

~

Hear me

~

I am you.

But in this act

of willful indifference

you

are

not

me

~

 this seed, so stung

 germinating without sun

 grown from biting roots

 ungrounded in pain

 birthing emptiness

  returns to earth as dust

 as dust

 as dust

“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

One Billion Rising

This poem was written for everyone who has been sexually abused….men, women and children. It is also for the abusers…those who clothe their own sorrow in indifference.

It is not a poem of exclusion. It is statement of strength and a prayer for the return to a sense of self and connection.

All aspects of sexual abuse come from the same seed. A seed that needs to lay fallow, bleach in the sun, and return to the earth as dust.

medium_1202156133

“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/henrygrey/1202156133/”>henry grey</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Rapt in winter

~

Our bodies rapt

in humus

  scenting of decay

sounding under frost.

  Sun of winter

breathing low

into branches of sky.

Leaves transparent and tart

cover my breasts

my sighs

sinking

touched

into

your

warmth

~

This perfect decent

down down

below

the lilt of meaning

rising and falling

we may never

be found

again

“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

rapt in winter

“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

~

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/shelbob/65095407/”>Janesdead</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

The position of gray

~

After so many years

it grays me to see

how often we enter into

an agreement of unkindness,

each day a choice of persuasion,

where shadows of unmet desires

play against the walls

of our routines

sung by the low hum

of tuneless notes.

~

no apologies

aching hearts

~

we are both waiting

to be

apart

””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””’

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””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””’

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/striatic/133146861/”>striatic</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;