The wound comes back
Core wound to feel safe, feel space, be yourself. Feel free.
Safe, to be yourself
Everyday feel womb space Happiness
It's a soft spot a break in your energy
A tear in your aura
You run, to run free
It's a weakness
It holds you back
"You're not safe here"
You immediately recoil. Coil back down. Small. Make yourself small.
You reach out for others but they are out of your grasp
You can't run like them
You can't run with them
You run but you're out of breath faster, you cramp you feel pain
SAFE. I want Safe. I want Secure. I want Peace.
Peace is not here.
It leaks out of your spleen. The peace you knew has been leaking out of your spleen.
Everyone knows it. Everyone can sense it.
Exhausted. 17 years.
Give up. It's time to give up. Until. a tiny point of light? Tiny inspirations keep you
moving. Authentic inspirations.
Or distractions? You or me?
Where are the inspirations? Those are safe and secure. Keep chasing those fire flies? The tiny inspirations.
I'm so tired.
I don't want any more distractions from myself. 17 years of distractions has been enough for me.
"Fire Flies" is a poem about life after a 16-year-old girl wouldn't let her best friend's older brother use the family computer.
The next time he saw his little sister's best friend, he decided she should be drugged, stripped naked in a bathtub and raped by him and his hockey buddies.
This is her Truth.
Rape is not an act of sex. It is an act of power and control.