Three Poems

Part 1: “Fine”

Yes I am fine. In the same way that a lamb

is after its bee eaten by a wolf

yes im fine.

But some days I can still feel

him sinde of me.

When will I forget the feeling

that what's between my legs i

s a crime scene.

When will I forget the way he said "I bet I make you feel so good."

As I tried to push you off

my body with my

hands tied to the bed bored

I looked at the spaces

between my toes

and I thought "you're too tiny. That's why it was so easy

for him to use you like that.”

And cool and you see I'm angry because

I have run out of time

have run out of compassion for

wolves.

I ran, and the stubborn body followed

but I cannot run from the memory

no matter how many cigarettes or whiskey shots I engulf.

I'm fine.

You drew the rest out of me

like wine bubbling sick

I felt the retching and

the I- can't- breathing

I felt the unpleasant residue

in my throat.

The hands around my neck

the bruising from your hands

searching so deeply for

something you might find

inside yourself once you had

ravaged me. “Power.”

See, there's no difference

between being raped and being run over by a truck

except afterwards

man will always ask you if

you enjoyed it.

Part 2: “Resolution”

He looked at her like prey,

so she prayed that the lioness hiding

in one of the caves of her heart

would claw its way through her

skin before he tried to.

This is my resolution

to never again cower or lower

my head at injustice

so justily given out by men.

And I will one day teach

my daughter to plunge her claw

s into any man who tries to

touch her.

I will teach her the difference

between sweet lies

and the bitter truth.

Because it's high time for

men to realize that women

are not objects

but the most majestic of beasts

who are strong enough to tear

apart the soul of any man

who tries to violate them.

I will teach her, as I taught

myself. How to pry out old memories like

gum on pavement

and turn them into resolutions

resolutions for a revolution

Where women have the upper hand

and we're people telling their

stories aren't labeled as survivors,

but as warriors.

So tell me now "who is your daddy"

now that we have learned the

word rape is not a synonym

for pleasure.

I define my own damn

resolutions.

I will take back the power

you so carelessly pryed out of me.

So what happens now.

Is that I become free.

Once you no longer see me

as a victim.

But as a bad ass motherfucker

who deserves to be free.

Part 3: “Rage—Resolution”

The hardest part of recovery is that

you have to keep choosing it.

Even on the bad days.

In the active choice to

not be a commodity labeled and

consumed by society.

The hardest part

is not picking up another

cigarette and choose to

breathe in-in attempt to quell my rage

because I know I'm done

choking on secondhand smoke

Instead I chose to plant

my baby teeth in the garden

seeds of rage that

grow up strong girls.

Strong girls know how

to win a fight

Strong girls who aren't afraid

to stand in the light

until all the shady shit

that lives in the shadows

“Hello no.”

Strong girls who understand

womanhood -and live it

Strong girls -become

a goddess a weak man could

never handle.

The hardest part about recovery

is you have to keep choosing it

and be able to tell him

"I forgive you"

and once again take your

rightful place amidst the

sunflowers in the garden

Turn my rage into resolution

to never again go unheard

to nurture myself

and once again look up at the sky.

Without being blinded by the sun.