Poems about The Power of Voice

UNTITLED

This ain’t easy at all,
So bravo to you,
You brave and authentic soul,
What courage you show,
To know you are no longer alone,

Courage,

I know you felt as if you had no air to breathe for quite some time,
A long time to be quite real,
(But) Now you are free to breathe,

Truly I tell you, what courage you show,

Let breathing be a reminder to you of the present time of where you are destined to be,
What a brave soul you are,
Only God knows the tightness you experienced within,
Trying to gasp for air through the suffocations of the experience,

This is not easy to express let alone to have experienced…
As a little child,
Hence, I am truly grateful for you,

Remember, I will always be here as a reminder to your Truth,
To your knowing,
By the simple acts of nodding and acknowledging all you have been through,
Yet, are still going through,

Oh my poor soul,
In the midsts of this e-motional pain,
You don’t ever have to explain to another soul,
It’s up to you and you only,
You only my inner child,

A quilt of words is all you need,
Remember, the strength and power lies in your whispers,
Trust me my child,
Believe me,
You are here, and never alone,
I love you,
The Lord loves you.

I got the invite.
I want to SCREAM.

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

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.

Shame wreathes my morning, like the thickest mist.
I trickle through the day, craving the night.
I scour those nights. Does peace hide, in some scream?
But where to find it?

I can’t even find my car keys!
Brothers, sisters, I need you. Whisper in my ear.
Reflect my shaming in your tear-filled eye.
Your wounded healing takes away my fear.
Truth clears the mist, and I can see the sky.
Better: I see the circle, claim my place.
I breathe with you. Your courage is my grace.

I grazed my rage today. It flushed my skin.
A lava-storm erupted deep within
But stayed inside, for grown-up girls and boys
Are not supposed to make an angry noise.
Bugger that! I AM, I rightly AM.
Rage that is heard, transforms - to mighty trees,
Orchards that blaze a thousand energies,
That fruit a thousand futures, as is just.
The alchemy of anger into trust.
Trust! That’s the big one. That means me and you.
That what you say, and what I feel are true.

'Just tickling', but his grasp betrays the lie.
Outside, the playground squeals its playground fears.
He splays the me-child, flesh against his thigh,
Manoeuvres that shame shudder down my years.
The nature study jam-jars wink: I spy!
Bewilderment throat-retches into tears.
'Thank you'. He thanks me! Knowing no-one knows
Nor must, I tiptoe-flee, pretend to play,
Then work, smile, work, and up the goody goes -
Top of the class to teatime shine the day.
The teacher tends his purpose; nothing shows;
Un-crease the child, use, re-use, toss away.
My smile survives, until in middle age
I'll shift the slab, and liberate the Rage.

He took a piece of me.
He took the peace of me,
my Godfather.
And, my God, Father, I need it back.
Now.
Please?
Peace - Oh, I remember you.
You endless summer of Lego adventures.
Daytime TV with Gran and her dentures
in a glass, and we’d laugh.
Peace - You made my sides sore and my face hot
from laughing. God, I used to laugh, so loud, a lot.
Peace - You warm bath.
You tranquil home planet, so tiny yet vast.
You safe cosy world all of my choosing,
and Mum’s cooking and Dad’s snoozing,
when all was okay,
and we all believed it would stay that way.
Until the day he took away that piece of me.
The peace of me.
Peace,
I miss you.
I miss me.

She took the same book out of her church library about 30 times between the ages of 8 to ten. Oh,  how I wish I could have held her close and told her again and again
You can tell me

The book she read told her to tell if someone touched her inappropriately. Surround by so many adults couldn't they see the book was a plea
For help

Oh how I wish I could have held her hand in love, I wish she could have told me
In her teens, struggling with body image, hatred for the parts he touched;  they labeled her unpleasant and miserable a person you should never expect much 

How I would have loved to offer her some encouragement, a smile
Maybe then she would have told me

In her 20s and 30s constantly hounded by memories those she finally told shamed and dismissed her, "you're hurting his legacy!" How I wished I was stronger to become a defender of self... you see,

She is me

Now in my 40s a mother, fearless protector no longer owning the shame. I am victorious I am a THRIVER I now know my name

How I now love me and trust me as I come into my own

I'm Beautiful, loved, kind and courageous  

I am me

I am Annie

I am free