I woke up last week, wanting to write a poem in honor of Child Abuse Prevention Month. April is also National Poetry Month. Here it is.

Un-Elevated; paralyzed by snares

Hallucinating aloneness; empty by capacity-

in fact we’re fashionably hidden,

sentenced by crime;

unaware of confinement in a catastrophe

with small self mutilating incisions – completely livid inside.

I remember.

Being fingered at four.

Yeah, I know it wasn’t my fault;

being kissed like an adult

woman.

I remember the sores.

And because this design of the brain was not God intended,

I experienced a lifetime of pain in those six minutes.

Whether I forgive him or not,

my life was finished.

A new experience began, where that one ended.

My mind was different,

but I didn’t understand why.

A true fortune teller,

God visited me at nine.

He gave me a language to which I can rely,

showed me…