• RiverGhost@slrpnk.net
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    1 month ago

    Text version

    When people ask me why
    it took two years of writing poems
    to write this poem
    to write the rape poem,
    I will tell them all about you.

    How you watch this stage
    the same way you watch CSI,
    you already know what’s coming next,
    it’s just another mangled body,
    I am just another hit and run,
    so you take this time to get another drink,

    I’ll tell them
    how every story sounds the same
    when you stop listening,

    I’ll tell them
    how nice it must be
    to be able to walk away, and
    I’ll tell them
    how there’s a voice in the back of my head
    that sounds an awful lot like yours saying,

    This is just another rape poem.

    Just another little-girl-lost poem.
    Just another do-not-touch-me-until-I-ask you-to-touch-me poem.

    Just another seven-years-old,
    sleeping with a Tinkerbell wand on my nightstand
    and a kitchen knife underneath my pillow
    because I swore the next time he came into my bedroom
    uninvited
    he would come out bleeding poem;
    and I get it.

    I know that you are tired of hearing rape poems.
    I am tired of hearing rape poems,
    the same way soldiers are tired of hearing their own guns go off, believe me,
    we all wish the war was over, but friend,
    you are staring out at a world on fire complaining about how ugly you think the ashes are,

    The poems are not the problem.

    We have built cathedrals
    out of spite and splintered bone,
    of course they aren’t pretty,
    nothing holy ever is—
    Think of Gandhi’s blistered feet,
    think of that crown made of thorns
    and the sweat on your mother’s sacred chest
    as she pushed to get you here,
    the work is never pretty,
    but it’s the only way the house gets built;

    So I’m sorry that you don’t want to look at my wreckage,
    but
    I have carpentry in my mouth.
    I have a hammer in my hands,
    you cannot stop me from building,
    and as long as you’re there,
    in the back of the room,
    I am going to be here,
    voice made from smolder,
    because this is my story
    and you cannot take this
    from me.

  • DarkNightoftheSoul@mander.xyz
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    1 month ago

    I want to read this at my spoken word meeting next week, but I worry about being seen as appropriating her story or, frankly, telling a woman’s story as a man. Can the community give me opinions on this?

    • Mouselemming@sh.itjust.works
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      1 month ago

      If you want to share it with the group, print it and hand it out. Do something else for yourself, something to which your mouth and heart can bring authenticity. This poem requires a woman’s voice. It’s not like there’s a shortage of poems written in/for a man’s voice.

      • paysrenttobirds@sh.itjust.works
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        1 month ago

        I disagree. There are details in this poem that code it as a woman, but men have been raped, esp as children. If this commenter feels a personal connection to someone in that place, I think reading this poem would be ok. It specifically suggests we can all see the world on fire if we choose to look.