While She Sleeps

While She Sleeps

How can you know

this message is for you

when you do not know

who I am?

I’ve done all that I can

to stop that man

but the police

didn’t give a damn

so he’s still free

to walk these streets

and god forbid

if he hurts

another woman.

Because I may not be

the first

he’s done it to

but to be the last

I’d give the universe

to be heard

and god forbid

if he hurts

you.

Because there’s nothing worse

than knowing

my screams are but a silent clue

marking the man who

you’re sleeping next to.

Bluebeard

Bluebeard

I learnt the hard way

about predators,

I, the youngest sister,

oblivious to how easily

I could become prey,

too busy being ‘nice’

in a culture

that doesn’t teach young women

assertion,

so to injured instinct

I did not listen

till slaughtered.

I’m still haunted

by the dark man in my dreams,

you stand at the end of my bed,

constant threat

to skin you never touch.

A wake-up call

to drink this tonic

and remind myself

what I will spend the rest of my life

fighting for,

now an older sister,

for I’m wild and wiser,

and I will not rest

till that key

stops bleeding.

How They Make Us Mute

How They Make Us Mute

Trusting my own judgment

enough to learn to like

my outward appearance

is not easy when

you blame yourself

for the poor judgment

of another’s hands

and how they wouldn’t hurt you

and then tore your love

for your body

away from your body

from the outside in

and how it leaves you stuck

in a cycle of self torment

trying to forgive yourself for something

you didn’t do to yourself

but somehow allowed happen

but didn’t

till your own false sense of safety

deludes it’s better

to hate your body

for something another did to it

because look what happened

when you had the audacity

to like it.

From #metoo You

From #metoo You

There is an anger that sits in the pit of your stomach

a sorrow that weighs down your bones

some days you bang your head against that brick wall and barely see a crack

you feel sick

your heart is tired

there is a before you and an after you and you don’t want to be you anymore.

 

Your recovery does not depend on

telling the police

telling anybody

other people’s responses

being believed

a police investigation

a CPS decision

a court finding

the length of a prison sentence

legal justice

whether you fought back

how many times you said no

or if you felt able to say it

what you were wearing

what you were doing before

what you did after

if you know them

if you still see them

how many times it happened

if it still happens

how long it took to sink in

what you did with any evidence

how much you remember

or what you do to forget

how you feel about yourself today

how you slept last night

and how many nightmares you have

what you ate today

being comfortable with physical contact

if your body feels like your own again yet

how often you cry

or feel any feelings at all

when you last had a panic attack

when you last hurt yourself

whether you feel like giving up today

how many times you have already tried to

any words shared about what happened to you

unless those words are yours.

 

Your recovery is yours

this they cannot take away from you

it depends on you alone

it is poetic

it cannot be compared or measured or judged

it happens at your pace

in your time

when you are ready

there is no way to fail.

So take that anger and take that sorrow

and you make this life beautiful anyway

stand with us

you are not alone.

Twenty Months: Sexual Violence Awareness Week

Twenty Months: Sexual Violence Awareness Week

It’s been twenty months

but at least once a week

I still discredit my mind’s version of that night

interrogate memories like they owe me answers

‘Why didn’t you fight back’

‘Maybe it wasn’t rape after all, just really bad sex’

‘You probably could have escaped if you tried’

It’s been twenty months

but at least once a week

I wish someone else would tell me

they still think like this too.