The Origin of a Survivor

A poem in honor of April, Sexual Assault Awareness Month.

Stepping away from the bed,

Away from the pain,

Wiping my clouded, confused eyes,

Dreaming of what I will gain.

Packing my mementos and clean clothes,

Writing my mother an unforgiving letter.

Kissing my young sisters goodbye,

I know my life will get better.

Moving forward with my escape plan,

Taking the first step,

Towards the heavy bedroom door he frequently opened,

Why didn't my mother protect...

Sitting up straight in my classes today,

Thinking of my future, without the uninvited, with joy,

Wondering if I tell, will he go to jail?

Or will there be a well crafted lie he will employ?

Never mind that, picturing myself in college,

Focusing on walking across several stages,

Dismissing thoughts of people looking at me funny,

Claiming I am going through teenage phases.

Encouraged that his unpredictable touches will stop,

Although he has already made me a woman,

Realizing I am depressed, but more mature,

I just want to live my life as a dignified human.

Wanting to be childlike, safe and secure,

My body, he will no longer be able to use.

This is the origin of me, a survivor,

I will no longer and never again be abused.

The End

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