Hand In Hand

Hand In Hand

I will raise my voice to speak,

begin to rejoice in my action

even if no one hears me,

for this body houses a spirit

more powerful than the layer of skin

touched by another’s fingertips.

They dip their desire in holy water

whilst I make my mark with pincer grip,

acknowledging your visit to this sacred space,

a ticket stub reminder of all that’s temporary,

you can only ever sleep beside this,

an understudy to my lifelong apprenticeship.

But first, take off your shoes,

this is holy ground

we both need to learn to worship.

Vigil #2

Vigil #2

I am still not accustomed

to being wanted for my company,

so used to hosting men

in my bed and this body,

the universe expanding

as somehow my space becomes erased.

To be asked what brings me pleasure

should be so everyday.

I may not be convinced of my beauty yet

but I can believe that I am safe,

even as my deepening breath

begs for armour

or out of habit, sleep hesitates,

both waiting up for the decision my heart makes

to trust the hands that hold me.

You Needed To Hear This

You Needed To Hear This

Enough now,

lay down the weight which you carry,

nobody is owed the heaviness of your soul

and there are other ways to find justice

without holding on to the hard places.

Enough now,

this burden of proof doesn’t belong

to the heart that knows the truth,

whose body shattered into pieces

reflecting someone else’s shame.

Enough now,

name what hurts and let it be,

these wounds may be deep

but do not silence their screaming,

they were never the enemy.

Enough now,

who said you have to do this alone,

healing comes collectively, like a universal truth

and love, it’s time to come home.

You’ve been gone long enough.

Saviour

Saviour

I do not want me,

my brain rejects every organ of this body

and bleeds out acid rain.

Joy ran away,

caught a boat across the ocean

now I’m stranded on the bay

with a raft built from rotten wood

and a single bullet

to either bury myself where my soul breaks

or shoot for an SOS.

I’m stuck rooted to the spot,

like a dead weight drowning slowly in quicksand

unsure I rate this life high enough to save it

as the storm cloud approaches along with my fate.

A lightening strike splits the clouds,

allowing space for the heavens to open

as my own hand reaches down.

Groundwork

Groundwork

I would like to rely a little more on myself

and not see hope as a chore,

like eating healthy or being kind to my anxiety,

something other than just coping

when lack of sleep slides into the bed beside me

and swears he’s the only intimacy I’m worth.

Can I place a hand over where it hurts,

yours or mine, or both together,

allow scars to touch bare skin

without lying about their origin,

my longings and wishful thinkings,

mistakes and misplaced trust.

Of the things I find hard to accept,

the most difficult is knowing

how the next steps require

I must let go of them all.

Here Lies Grace

Here Lies Grace

I woke up this morning and sensed the air

mingle with the spaces between my fingers,

the weight of your absence

like a twenty pound blanket I sometimes carry

as extra skin

when I long to feel less fragile

and more oxytocin, more real

and less repellent.

I round up my knees

to cradle the present,

give it the human touch it needs

in moments of discomfort so quiet

that I hear the birds outside my window

breathe in faintest echos

like the words my lips speak silently

across an empty pillow.

Communion

Communion

Today is for the realigning of bare bones,

edges exposed,

every crack blessed with drops of holy water

for how else would I honour

the body of a Goddess.

Trace my fingertips over this skin

with the tenderness of a lover

whose touch was gone too long

but right on time to hold these hands as they sleep,

only letting go to wipe tears from her cheek.

Then, wake her up gently,

magic cast in the whispers of morning breath,

planting kisses on the back of her neck

where pulse meets electricity

and calls it healing energy,

calls it what I need,

when I stopped waiting for a reminder

of my trauma

to leak love back into capillaries

and find a daily practice

to map its journey through my blood stream.

We answer our own prayers.