Poem 3 – Survivor

This was my 3rd poem and probably my favorite. Too many women in my life have been sexually assaulted. I can’t even begin to imagine what someone feels when they go through this. It should never happen, let me just say that from the get go. I hate that it happens and I will die defending someone in this situation. I tied to put it into words as best I could. Much of this comes from input from a number of different women. As always, please, please, please give me feedback.

Raindrops splattering my face

like tears,

but my eyes are dry;

nothing more for me to give.

The storm clouds rage above,

lightning flashes,

thunder crashes.

I’m all alone,

adrift in shame.

Blood runs down my leg,

a trickle.

I shift my dress to cover

my guilt.

This was my fault,

at least that’s what I was taught.

I’m angry, hurt,

why can’t I just die?

But I must go on,

dust off my clothes,

look in a different direction,

while locking my secret away.

A lump gathers

in my throat, blocks the airway

cutting off my breath.

I collapse.

The soft grass caresses me, the sun’s

welcoming embrace pulls me

from the ground, guides me forward

casting the storm aside, brightening

the otherwise gloomy day.

Life suddenly blossoms, birds

chirping, insects buzzing,

breathing new life into my soul.

A burbling stream gathers

my attention. Wading in

the biting, cold water attacks

my legs and feet,

but it isn’t all bad.

A ribbon of dirt, sweat, and blood

floats

downstream, away from me like

the river is cleansing my soul.

I’ll remember this day

forever,

the day a man assaulted me,

and tore away my innocence.

Life After Death

Those who follow me know I am working on my Masters in Professional Fiction Writing through the University of Denver (Go DU!). Anyway, I have never been into poetry, but I had to take three electives and decided to take a class on poetry. I figured I should push myself, and that is what I am trying to do.

In week 2, we had to take and idea that was near and dear to our heart and transform it into a poem. I have had too many women in my life affected by rape,  I just knew this was what I had to put on my canvas. So I wrote a poem, which you will see below. I had a meeting with my professor the following week and he suggested that I get feedback from women. Before posting it, I had already run it by my wife, but next week is week 10, and I need to turn in revised versions of all my poems.

So, I need women to comment and offer feedback. I know I am a man and can never truly understand the pain that is associated with such an act.  But I do feel for those who have been victimized and would like to make it a life goal to stop such things from happening. This can be tough, and I can respect those who wish to remain silent, but for those who have gone through these heinous acts, I am with you and would like to draw attention to the shit hole that this truly is. So if you are comfortable with it, I can use any and ALL feedback you can offer. It will be completely anonymous. I need the feedback and am only looking for comments. I appreciate the support.

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Raindrops splattering my face like tears,

only my eyes are dry;

I can’t give any more.

The storm clouds above rage,

as lightning flashes, mimicking

my internal thoughts and feelings.

I brought this on myself, or so I was taught.

At least that’s what my granny would say.

Smoothing my dress to cover the bloodstains on my panties,

I try to climb to my feet, but can’t.

It hurts. I hurt. But I know I must go on,

it’s what we’re told,

dust off your clothes,

and look in a different direction,

all the while keeping a little secret.

With conviction, I make it to my feet,

pressing forward, as I will in life.

This won’t be the end of me.

I will not allow this situation,

define who I am, for I am strong.

A lump gathers in my throat,

blocking my airway,

cutting off my breath, and I collapse.

The soft pillow of grass caresses me,

and the warm embrace

of the Sun’s welcoming yellow arms,

pulls my head from the ground,

guiding me forward with resolve.

The reemergence of the sun

brings out the birds and insects.

My cheerleaders whispering this isn’t my fault,

The man is a predator, nothing but scum gathering beneath my feet.

I yearn for a warm tidepool,

to wash this filth away,

but water won’t help,

only the bite of cold steel will.