Empowering survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse from around the globe, connecting and healing collectively through poetry.
#globalpoetrymovement
Recent Poems
Abused ; Aftermath
Abused ; Aftermath
In the darkness of the night
Eyes moistened by the insight
Of a life of failed resolutions
And social aberrations
Which I continue to gaslight
I find so deep a sorrow
In knowing that tomorrow
In my weakness of determination
In my perpetual stagnation
I may again burrow
Into a hole of avoidance
A cavern of acceptance
Only to feel an utter emptiness
And sense of absurdness
That seems my life’s dance
And I ask … why?
Dana
Dana P. | Canada
Authors Note:
Are we ever able to truly and fully move beyond
the abuse we experienced, or is it always a shadow on our soul that affects our forever? For me although life is many layered and joy can be felt on multiple layers that joy is often diminished, dulled and muted. Life is itself dulled and twisted by self doubt and sabotage anda profound sense that self worth is at best elusive. This poem
speaks to those many reoccurring moments between the efforts to push forward in a positive manner thatare a constant struggle to deal with.
A Kid Of Three
A Kid Of Three
The man was busy again, like an eight legged thing,
the better to clutch, in sickness and dying, in a
grimace, in a motion that tears down the world from east to west,
and stops only to refill what is spent in more horrid darkness
from inside his heart and mind. Until the man sees blood, he
is not fulfilled. Who the kid is doesn’t matter, not on any
account, not in particulars, not in general. And the kid got it,
but he could conclude nothing - three years of living is no
match for a monstrous touch. Cowards show up in lies and deceit,
and a kid of three knows something we don’t know.
G.Z. | Canada
This work was a no feeling work. My emotions were stuffed, buried. Written years after the abuse in stared at the page in stunned comprehension. I had lived this experience the words whispered to me. I had written hundreds, maybe thousands of poems, but never one directly dealing with the abuse. Afterwards I carried on. I must have carried on, a thousand miles from my healing.
MY RIGHTS
MY RIGHTS
I have every right to feel the pain of what I went through
I have every right to say I should not have gone through these experiences
I have every right to still feel the afflictions of what I endured for years
I have every right to say it was never my fault to begin with
I have every right to say I was placed in a toxic and abusive environment
I have every right to express fully that not everything happens for a reason
I have every right to say I could not learn from certain experiences because those experiences should not have been lessons to have learned from
To me, that just sounds condoning, neglectful and invalidating
What happened to me is real
What they did was not okay
I have every right to shed my tears
I have every right to sniffle and frown
To break into pieces
To hate and be angry
I owe myself the self-validation I never once received from my so-called family
I deserve to not want to forgive
To not be pressured or made to feel guilty for not wanting to forgive
I deserve to do what feels best for me
Even if it differentiates from other people's perceptions
It is not about anyone but me
I am fed up with listening to others but disregarding myself
I am tired of putting myself in convos where my experiences are belittled
I was gravely abused throughout childhood, and it has been affecting me to this day
This I will admit
This I will not be afraid to admit
This I will stop feeling shame for
My inner child deserves to be heard, believed, understood and acknowledged
I will be the one to continue giving her that
For what she battled, no one will ever understand
Except herself and her Originator
Plus, the very few people on planet Earth who actually care about the hard things the rest of humanity are too prideful to speak about
—the end 💔
s.renita | Canada