No other way to open my blog than by sharing one of my newest poems. Below you’ll find a piece about what it is like as a trauma survivor approaching the day your trauma originated every year.
It Must Be November
It must be November, I feel it in my bones
My truth wedges sideways in my throat
Straight-jacket tension seizes my ribs
An elephant’s weight presses my lungs
I try to scream, but there is only silence
Neurons re-transmit pulses you created
Memories lap at the nape of my neck
Your crimes drive up and down my spine
Energy transmutes from man to poltergeist
My body first remembers this day in November
But my brain is an annual belated guest
Your confession replays like a bad film
One I was cast in without my permission
My role changes from victim to villain
Based on if people believe you or me
They say, “a jury may not believe you”
I ask, “even though I was asleep?”
Important souls needs no convincing
So this November, I do not care who believes
And that is how I finally exorcise you from me