If you're reading this,
I promise you it's not too late.
I know they tell you the rape will kill you, that there's no use in living
But darling I'm here to set the record straight.
In this world, it's not a secret they are the sharks,
And we have become the tastiest bait.
That women have been marked for pain and death, and we keep waiting for our own end date.
But listen,
Listen, just listen and listen to my reason.
No pain in this world is permanent, nothing lasts longer than the seasons.
Just listen,
I know the pain burns like acid,
I know it suffocates you at night,
I know it leaves you drenched in the morning, covered in sweat
Fighting off his image,
The image of the demon that even your nightmares fear.
I know, the night it happened,
You froze.
You held still and held your breath,
Hoping the lack of air would kill you faster than he could,
Fear of fighting back,
Fear of crying,
Fear of a man you thought you knew,
Remembering through it all,
That the difference between monsters and rapists, is one hides under your bed and the other has no problem entering it.
But listen,
Sweet honey of a woman,
Sweet warrior of a woman
Sweet, sweet woman.
If you're reading this,
It's not too late.
Honey let me tell you,
What they could never tell you.
Let me tell you that you are a mountain,
And no matter how many times they trample up your majesty,
They'll never make you bow down.
Let me tell you,
You're the dream I keep having,
Of that sunflower that grew tall on the coldest day of winter
The one where they watch in wonder,
They watch how the cold only seems to feed your strength.
How you are beautiful even in your ruin,
How there's grace in the way your petals wilt,
And how no matter how many times the world plucks your petals,
What matters is who loves you, and fuck who loves you not.
So dear you,
You walking Garden of Eden.
I'm sorry that serpent tormented you.
Dear divine garden of survived fruit.
May you heal in time and in grace.
May you remind yourself when you look yourself in the mirror, \to stop seeing victim,
And stop hearing "survivor"
But to hear warrior,
as if God came down and whispered it straight to you.
Like, even the Holy Spirit fears you,
Kiss yourself whole my love, you've had enough bruises
Keep fighting this life that seems to play chess with whoever it chooses.
You are golden sunflowers even on a rainy day.
May you take in healing like it's water,
Comfort like it's warmth,
Love like it's a feast and you've been starving,
And above all,
God.
May you see God in you.
YOU ARE READING
The Thing About Poets
Storie d'amore"It is simple, I am not abundantly brilliant I am simply brilliant, there is quite a difference." A poetry collection about the everyday thoughts, emotions, random and deliberate occurences of an average poet. The kind of poetry collection where y...
