03-26-2017, 02:35 AM
First post 
It's more spoken word/much less beautiful and articulate than what I've read on here so far, but it's the only style I can write in!
To the men
To the men who have done me harm
I see you.
I know you.
Your crimes have been documented,
etched in my mind,
kept captive in silence.
No more.
You are known.
Your stories have been told.
Aloud.
I am not the bearer of your secrets
or your lies
anymore.
I have shed that skin like the snake you are.
I have set down that burden.
You have not won.
My heart and mind are mine.
We serve each other, body and soul -- we don't serve you.
I am not yours to sample or consume.
I am neither delicacy nor indelicacy.
I am not meek, hiding from your fists and dicks
anymore.
I am whole woman, full of power and creation
Shakti
full of Kali's destruction/transformation
Two sides of one coin.
I am holy.
I am sacred.
Consecrated, not desecrated, ground.
You,
the bringers of bad news and bruises and babies no one wanted,
you have not won.
I am not beaten up
or broken down.
I am alive with passion, pleasure, pain, perception -and- compassion.
Because when there is nothing left to lose, you give nothing or you give all.
I gave all to this journey you set me on, softening sharp edges,
opening eyes and heart and mind to the idea that there is
So.
Much.
More.
To.
Life.
Than you.
You told me it was all black and white and shade of grey -- and I found color anyway.
I win.
To the men who have loved me
You brave souls that stepped in when I was decimated.
Hated - by self and others.
Alone, enraged, and so damn scared I could barely stand straight.
You are the flickering flames that lit this path,
warmed my skin,
calmed my fears.
You.
Are.
Love.
Love divine, love incarnate, love physical and metaphysical.
Love without bounds or limits,
concessions or conditions.
It pours from your pores like balm.
It coats me.
Soothes my sores, washed clean by love.
You.
Are.
Love.
Love abiding, love patient, love kind.
You sat by my unlocked cage and waited ever so faithfully,
talking through the bars,
until I set myself free.
Me.
I did it.
You are not saviors or white knights.
You did not lend me your power for my protection.
You are sages, guides who guided me to my own light,
my own flame.
You did not roar for me
but with me
until I could carry the tune myself.
You are the soil in which I take root,
building the blooms I want to show the world.
Glimpsing your own divinity is not so hard, really,
when it is reflected in the eye of one who can already see it.
It's more spoken word/much less beautiful and articulate than what I've read on here so far, but it's the only style I can write in!
To the men
To the men who have done me harm
I see you.
I know you.
Your crimes have been documented,
etched in my mind,
kept captive in silence.
No more.
You are known.
Your stories have been told.
Aloud.
I am not the bearer of your secrets
or your lies
anymore.
I have shed that skin like the snake you are.
I have set down that burden.
You have not won.
My heart and mind are mine.
We serve each other, body and soul -- we don't serve you.
I am not yours to sample or consume.
I am neither delicacy nor indelicacy.
I am not meek, hiding from your fists and dicks
anymore.
I am whole woman, full of power and creation
Shakti
full of Kali's destruction/transformation
Two sides of one coin.
I am holy.
I am sacred.
Consecrated, not desecrated, ground.
You,
the bringers of bad news and bruises and babies no one wanted,
you have not won.
I am not beaten up
or broken down.
I am alive with passion, pleasure, pain, perception -and- compassion.
Because when there is nothing left to lose, you give nothing or you give all.
I gave all to this journey you set me on, softening sharp edges,
opening eyes and heart and mind to the idea that there is
So.
Much.
More.
To.
Life.
Than you.
You told me it was all black and white and shade of grey -- and I found color anyway.
I win.
To the men who have loved me
You brave souls that stepped in when I was decimated.
Hated - by self and others.
Alone, enraged, and so damn scared I could barely stand straight.
You are the flickering flames that lit this path,
warmed my skin,
calmed my fears.
You.
Are.
Love.
Love divine, love incarnate, love physical and metaphysical.
Love without bounds or limits,
concessions or conditions.
It pours from your pores like balm.
It coats me.
Soothes my sores, washed clean by love.
You.
Are.
Love.
Love abiding, love patient, love kind.
You sat by my unlocked cage and waited ever so faithfully,
talking through the bars,
until I set myself free.
Me.
I did it.
You are not saviors or white knights.
You did not lend me your power for my protection.
You are sages, guides who guided me to my own light,
my own flame.
You did not roar for me
but with me
until I could carry the tune myself.
You are the soil in which I take root,
building the blooms I want to show the world.
Glimpsing your own divinity is not so hard, really,
when it is reflected in the eye of one who can already see it.