Child Sexual Exploitation (CSE)

“Affection” was used as a mental shove.
Tricked into belief of a “shared love”
Abusers baited a child’s capacity to trust,
As “sweet” words and lies freely gushed.

Framed as friendship, affection, and care,
Belonging and status used to ensnare.
Intent was disguised - the grooming was planned.
So powerful any child could not understand.

Those first SIGNS OF ABUSE took time to spot,
Until vile infections showed their rot.
Sharp change of character – no “shine” anymore.
Unhealthy behaviours - unknown before.

Secretive actions and moody faces.
Frightened of some situations and places.
Gifts, money, and drugs found hidden away.
Unable or unwilling to explain or say.

Shyness and uncertainty chipped away –
A child’s precious worth eroded each day.
It started online, then in person too.
A child subdued - then told what to do.

Sexualised phrases took over online chats.
“Normalising” explicit words and acts.
“Persuaded” to post explicit themes,
Then share THOSE “pics, films, and streams”.

Next, a child agrees to go and meet,
The exploiter is waiting, acting discreet.
The child is taken and abused some more.
Then passed to others not mentioned before.

Abused by one, then many perpetrators,
Violence, degradation – the evillest natures.
Then simply discarded like trash on the ground,
A near lifeless shell is eventually found.

A traumatised child with bleeds and bruises.
Damaged inside-out as innocence loses.
PLEASE – work together to stop “CSE”
Look for any signs and have empathy.

Exploitation

Exploitation is a smoking gun,
Stealing choices from our young.
It shoots at futures, leaving them dead.
Like bullets, grooming rattles through heads.

Exploitation is a blade thrusting deep,
Murdering families as grief steals sleep.
It uses tactics like pressure and threats,
Pushing gifts & drugs to create “work debts”.

Exploitation is a social media disease,
Using platforms to “recruit” with ease.
It fakes aspects of life to trick and coerce,
Making alternatives seem weak or worse.

Exploitation is lurking by shops and schools,
Dangling temptation to follow new “rules”.
It offers to help with what kids might want,
Sucking them in with status or front.

Exploitation is at first a friendly disguise,
As kids look in with innocent eyes.
It picks at any child’s perceived weakness,
Offering fake futures away from life’s “bleakness”.

Exploitation is a destroyer of homes,
Forcing kids “Out There” to “Carry” and roam.
It plugs inside children – just like drug wraps,
Abandoned to fend-off rival attacks.

Exploitation is bribery then assault,
Hurting and beating to get a “result”.
It brands and degrades to destroy any bravery,
Entrenching children in modern slavery.

All my memories

I am from…
The lovely building
Where I played with my friends
At the age of 6
While he ogled from the other end.

I am from the swings
The slides, the seasaw and laughter,
From the cherished monsoon of 1990
And not from what he did to me soon after.

I am from the motherly love of my babysitter,
Whom I called “aai”, or mother in Marathi.
From that first taste of meat and fish
that she lovingly cooked for me.

I am from her delicious spicy mutton curry,
That I’d gulp down in a hurry,
From the maddening smell of rassa,
That stays with me to this day.

Neatly, deeply, lovingly knitted into my life
I am from the spice in Maharashtrian food.
I am from the peanuts, garlic, and the rich coconutty konkan curries
That love me in my lowest moods.
For they are me. And I am from them.

I am from trust, faith, and innocence
From joy, laughter, and pain.
I am from hugs and love for my baby sitter
I have not lost, I gained.

I am from acceptance and from rebellion
I am from anger but from wisdom
I am brave and I remember
I am from my memories.
Not just some.
I am from all my memories.

- Swe

Author Statement
I experienced the feeling of embracing myself and accepting myself for who I am. I felt encouraged to share my story in a way that it empowers me. And it was narrative therapy for me in just writing this for myself.

HUNGER

HUNGER

“You need to eat before you pass out.
Hello?
Missy?
Why aren’t you eating?
What's wrong with you?”

…hurt
hurt, hurt, HURT.

Why should I eat, when they starved me for over a decade?
Eat before I pass out you say?
But I've already passed out,

And NO!
It wasn't because I didn't eat,
That's what they kept voicing,
But it WASN'T because I didn’t eat!
It’s simply because I am not being me,

“Me?
What kind of foolishness are you talking about?”

I’m talking about expressing my need for hunger,
My need,
My desperation,
My hurt,
For hunger.

hunger, hunger, hunger,
For my dark soul,
Deep below,
Deep within,
All alone,

He’s all I ever thirst or hunger for,
For He fills me up with His wisdom and knowledge,
On how to be hungry for me,
Before I pass out in the hands of my roots once again.

He reminds me,
Only I can feed myself now,
Feed me with oneness in my mind, body, heart, and soul,

And for that, I am grateful to know,
To have the Lord be part of my dusty life,
The life He can take back,
In the split of a second,
Amen.

Author Statement
When creating this work, I was honestly experiencing emotional turmoil. Many emotions, feelings, sensations, and thoughts just kept on spiralling. I was so broken at this point to have recognized how much I was starved, and bullied at the dinner table alone. It’s still so faded, yet feels like it was only yesterday this was happening. It was so difficult to go through and is still TOO hard to look back on. I break so hard and don’t want to look back. I have been working towards overcoming these immense negative/hurtful feelings, and try to remind myself that I deserve to eat. I deserve to walk in my own shoes, and make my own decisions. It hasn't been easy at all, but having this awareness and acknowledgement that it didn't stem from me helps tremendously. Also, to know that my past does not dictate who I am. I dictate who I am. TBH, I still FEEL like it's my fault but I KNOW it's not my fault. God bless.

Healing

HEALING
The hero’s journey
Exhausted
Recovering from the
Broken Pieces

Stretched
Thin

Tears of liberation
Healing
is
the path
Towards
the free self

Riding moon beams
Waves crashing
I exhale

The underworld
Pain of change
Loss

I am
Reborn

Collective Poem Process on Healing
Arthur Lockhart
Founder Emeritus
The Gatehouse

Author Statement

This poem was the outcome of a group poetry writing session where everyone attached a word or phrase to the word HEALING. I combined the words into a poem on healing. It was a truly joyful process collaborating with others, and each person was able to create their own unique poem through this creative process of collaboration and sharing.
There will be another such session in October through the Gatehouse. Please visit the Gatehouse website: www.thegatehouse.org to see the date when the session will be taking place.

Hiding

Where did I lose myself?
Talking. Thinking. Trying.
Hiding.
Remembering. Realizing. Struggling.
Hurting.
When did I lose myself?
Burying. Protecting. Finding.
Hating.
How I lost myself…
Avoiding.
Here I am.

Author Statement

For many years, I thought I was ‘stuck’. I spent hours asking different therapists why I couldn’t get ‘unstuck’. After group therapy and reading (books seem to find me!), I realized I am not stuck. I am hiding. I need to heal before it feels safe for me to fully live in a healthy way. So, every day I take a step toward healing and not hiding. I wish that for all of us.

Family Reunion

I got the invite.
I want to SCREAM.

Author Statement

When you are not (yet?) ready to reveal secrets to your whole family….you can write a poem. And wonder what would happen if they knew.

The Gatehouse