One Soul

One soul is living
One soul is survivng
We smile together
One of us is crying

They hold our hand
One of us follows
They broke the trust
One of us feels hallow

We trust the lies
One of us hides the truth
We stand together
One stands alone, zero proof

We seek justice
They see a fight
We see them
They seek our light

One soul is living
One soul is surviving
We smile together
One of us is crying

Author Statement

After joining a council of survivors, I took a few moments to represent what it would feel within poetry to express in a way.. what living and surviving may sound like, may read like and may feel like. There is a very definitive difference between living and surviving.

A Single Word

A single Word

Dub poetry
Spoken word
Beat poetry
Slam poetry

Transformative poetry

Poetry pure poetry
Open heart

dissolves the chains
that once were viewed as unbreakable
invites me to see
that it is me
that is unbreakable

poetry has the power
to overturn those imposed sentences
pain, torment, shame,
and
all the other shadows that linger
outside our form

to be heard
to be scene
we are the ones
uncovering shrouds

how do I have to be
in order
for you to be free

when words
become poems

doors open
pathways surface
connections
create a choir
heard round the world

So here we are
Together

Weaving quilts
made of words
So strong that they float

Gentle
Through past
Lighting this very moment

Shining on…
Our future

Author Statement

This poem comes from reading the poems that are finding their way to this site. And, in reading the poems, I find connections with people I have never met, and in those connections lives strength, spirit, the awareness that together we are on a journey of authentic social transformation. What a gift we are all creating together.
With profound gratitude.
Arthur Lockhart
Toronto, Canada

Gall

You took my hand
Led me to your imprisoned bed
Me, giving up my safety, laden
In heaviness, I present my oneness
Which was hidden, guarded
You stroke my face, that ugliness, uncaring piece
A spoonful of unique crimson
My eyes shrouded by silk
The painful release of waters, built up
The key under your tongue, spit
I am cuffed, numb
My legs opened
Your lids flutter, a release
The metal cuts me, inside sickened
I feel weight, disconnected
No kiss, disrespecting body
My breathing, expanse
Cotton in my mouth
A broken wheel in awe
The mothered unwanted son held on
To a crippled sky

Author Statement

I was sexually tortured by my boyfriend and this is my coming to terms with my Pain. I have done a lot of work in therapy but writing poetry is a way to get it out of me and put it away, to never look at it again. It’s a place to render the cutting, the trauma, the formation of a new me, free from one who took from me, where I find my soul again.

A Slow Rearranging

The turbulence of these waves
could drown you out at sea;
swimming in saltwater with open wounds is bound to make you scream

This heart,
these hands,
this brain,
they're heavy

This body is tired of fighting a current and never drowning.

So stay strong
even when you feel all alone

Keep moving on;
the monsters that once had their claws in your back -
they're gone

No one's going to help you,
even if they'd want to.
There are things that, they will never know

So baby girl keep changing
Keep rearranging
all the thoughts that, you think you know

Just go slow
Just go slow

Author Statement

This poem was created while I was crying and trying to make something meaningful on my guitar. The words became a slow and melancholy song, through muffles of hopelessness, sobbing and exhaustion. I was deep in my battle of post-traumatic stress and this night was one of the darkest and most alone moments that I’ve experienced yet. I was landing in the reality that no one would be able to fully be able to understand my experience because I was the only one that experienced it; I was the only one there other than my perpetrator. In my mind, at the time, even the most well intentioned-folks (which there were few) wouldn’t be able to “save” me; this was very scary because I felt so alone, and I wanted, desperately, to be seen and helped and saved by anybody. It was a terrifying time to me.

Looking back now, this poem represents one of the first times that I tapped into my own strength and resilience. It felt like I was making a decision out of hopelessness and betrayal, it was deeply deeply painful… and, though I didn’t know it yet, it also was the turning point for me. I was choosing to believe in something that I didn’t know to be real or true or possible – healing, my own inner-strength, the possibility of a “good” life…

It’s taken years and there have been triggers, painful flashbacks, deep and difficult transformation, but ultimately, all great learnings towards healing and post-traumatic growth. I am proudly in a healthy relationship now, with a partner who hears me and respects me; someone who I can communicate my boundaries with and who advocates for me even when I’m not there. I have learned how to create safety for myself and have been working hard to learn how to let go of unhelpful coping mechanisms (such as people pleasing and co-dependency), in order to show up authentically in all my relationships, aligned in my truth and in touch with myself and my body’s boundaries. The journey has been hard; I’ve lost a lot of people along the way, and battled up and down with mental illness. But I am so proud of myself for how far I’ve come, for who I am now, and for the young woman who wrote this poem in her darkest times, unknowing it would become her prayer to get her through to the end <3

Beyond is Your Nature

Beloved friend, fellow survivor,
I thought I heard you say,
“My innocence is forever lost.”
Look again, look deeply, I say.

Beyond existence and non-existence.
Beyond birth and beyond death,
Thus is your nature.
Look again, look deeply, I say.

Taking refuge in Great Compassion,
Transform pain into joy,
Awaken gladness in your heart.
Look again, look deeply, I say.

Close your eyes and look inward,
Into the depths of consciousness.
There you find a sweet child.
Say to her, “Darling, I am here for you.”

Open you heart to this child,
Allow great compassion to arise,
Offer the incense of tranquility.
Say to her, “Darling, I see your suffering.”

Say to her with tenderness,
“Sweet child, little me,
A cloud never dies.
Innocence is your nature.”

The insight is strong,
Be brave and be bold.
And thus the wisdom lotus blossoms,
In the thick, stagnant mud.

Darling, I am here for you.
Beloved, I see you.
Fellow survivor, nothing is lost.
We are blessed innocence.

Dismantling Shame

Stigma will no longer sew my lips shut, it cannot.

Stigma will no longer shame me into a shell, it cannot.

Stigma is the toxin that runs through society, but no longer through me. It cannot.

Stigma is the faceless fear that tried to force me into inaction. But now, it cannot.

Stigma helped my perpetrator get away with his crime, but now, it cannot.

Stigma helped complicit institutions cover up abuse, but now, it cannot.

Stigma is being disrupted and dismantled, and it will no longer prevent the truth.

Stigma is being unmasked and uncovered, and it will no longer trap any youth.

Stigma is a relic of the past, showing the greatest contrast.

For now, the darkness cannot live here, only truth and light.

a simple act / stargazing

the same way
i count my thoughts
in shapes
& constellations
strung together
one too many times.

Author Statement

I have a continuous passion for narrative storytelling using mixed media to showcase my creative talents. I’m naturally inclined towards writing in various forms; poetry, memoir, short fiction, documentaries, and journaling. Find my portfolio here – https:// rileygstein.format.com/e8618ba8d9-content.

Like an alchemist, Goldstein transforms writing and design into creative communication that inspires her viewers. Goldstein publishes work connecting nature to lineage as she paints pictures with her words.

cup of cozy

my love for you tastes like
arriving home from a blizzard,
your defrosted lips
fireplace hands
stoking our coals into embers

Author Statement

I have a continuous passion for narrative storytelling using mixed media to showcase my creative talents. I’m naturally inclined towards writing in various forms; poetry, memoir, short fiction, documentaries, and journaling. Find my portfolio here – https:// rileygstein.format.com/e8618ba8d9-content.

Like an alchemist, Goldstein transforms writing and design into creative communication that inspires her viewers. Goldstein publishes work connecting nature to lineage as she paints pictures with her words.

Whimsy

We change, turn over covers and apple strudels.
We wake, fresh out the oven.
We grow meeting seasons with new energy.

Be a tree.
We do not know why we are here.

Neither do trees.

Purpose lives, breathes, shakes our cores, spirits, and psyches.

I was blessed with a body, arms that wrap around my community, hands that are warm
and I whistle wind songs, chiming tunes, writing rhythms extending towards you.

I am resilient. I am unique. I am unconventional. I am authentic.

Trees cannot be replicated as replacement carries new weight, manufacturing wisdom
in my palms, reaching up, grounding myself in moss and stone and cement.

No matter where I go, I leave a mark.

One human thumbprint
is worth more
Than a thousand.

Author Statement

I have a continuous passion for narrative storytelling using mixed media to showcase my creative talents. I’m naturally inclined towards writing in various forms; poetry, memoir, short fiction, documentaries, and journaling. Find my portfolio here – https:// rileygstein.format.com/e8618ba8d9-content.

Like an alchemist, Goldstein transforms writing and design into creative communication that inspires her viewers. Goldstein publishes work connecting nature to lineage as she paints pictures with her words.

The Gatehouse