.jpg)
(In this video I share some thoughts on getting loud and read the poem below.)
It’s hard to describe how it feels to say,
“I was emotionally abused.”
It is raising your hand in class,
but you’re not sure your answer is right,
so you say it really fast
and hope no one notices.
How can this really be the right answer?
It is being afraid I’ll have to defend my answer
and not know how.
That I will say,
“I was abused.”
and the Prosecution will respond,
“Oh, yeah? Prove it.”
How can it be true?
I had no visible scars.
No broken bones, belt marks, or burns.
What if I am wrong?
What if he did love me?
Does love me?
But he’s so broken that it comes out all wrong.
When I was with him I was broken.
There was no me left.
No presents on Christmas morning.
Threats of suicide
but everything was fine when the cops came.
The ground, unsteady.
The landscape always changing.
It happened.
My brain makes excuses.
Trying to make it not real.
Oh it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
Because I can’t believe it was as bad as it was.
It happened.
I was abused.
And now when I say it,
it feels a little like pride.
Like presents on Christmas morning.
Like truth.
Like survival.
***Reflection Questions/Story Starters:
What have you survived?
What feels like Christmas morning?
What is calling you to name and claim it?
This is one of the 38 poems is included in my book. If you like this one, you might like the whole thing =).