I dream of rainbows, of moments sinking golden

Into the welcoming earth, of memories worth holding,

I want a voice that transcends darkness, a voice that

Illuminates. I never asked why I should suffer I truly

Believed that like Atlas I could endure this world if to

Save, if I could bring solace to your rage then perhaps

I did have purpose. I was a ghost, unseen, beyond the

Reach of the trinity. This demon seed that you have sewn

In the graves of your incarnations, you who never were,

Parents that never were, I grow, a bramble, no flowers

To adorn, only the thorns of a crippling defense. All I ever

Wanted was to be heard and with this deafening pen I will

Be known, if the truth despairs, it is because all that you

Have shown, all that you have taught is unworthy of my

Name but if my words should have wings, to set free

Another enslaved then I will strip myself feather by feather

That no one should remain buried in flightless isolation.

These humble poems fall from me shattered on collision

What do I know of courage, these poor heart-shaped lungs

Labor independently, I just want to be pure, translucent

To float unimpeded by the gravity of these inherited sins


When I was a kid I was raised Christian kind of, my parents sent me to a church they did not attend (they didn’t attend church). I went to church alone and my parents never spoke about church or anything religious so I am not sure how that classifies. The people at the church were very kind to me and they fed me extra and had winter clothes sent to my house. My beliefs now are more Eastern philosophical


36 thoughts on “Listen

  1. if my words have the power to set free i will tear feather by feather to make sure no one else lives in that isolation…wow…love the intensity and conviction there…i like….

  2. You’ve really brought the memory to vivid reality. The complexity and melancholy of the emotions running through time are hinted at and worked through using such specific details – brambles, thorns, lungs etc. Great write and haunting.

  3. “..a voice that transcends darkness, a voice that Illuminates.”…
    This line jumped at me. I think as children we all want and dream of that voice. I also think that the dream follows us…we are always in search of that voice…your writing never fails to amaze me…

  4. This is beautiful. There seemed to be something extra in the beginnings of some of the lines that, stood out to me as well, that I liked.
    Be known,
    Labor ”

    I don’t know that it means anything, but I like it.

    1. Mysterious but you know that is exactly what I want! To illuminate with my poetry, to reach out to others and allow others to know me instead of running away scared, to maintain my own identity and to have meaningful work

  5. “To float unimpeded by the gravity of these inherited sins” Very powerful! Memories of forced religion: when I lived with my grandmother, I had to go to church wearing a hat and a pair of cloth gloves. Every Sunday, we sang the same hymn; I remember the words: “All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small . . .

    1. My parents didn’t actually care what religion i was, it was just free food and childcare to them. Unfortunately Christianity was a terrible fit for me I tried to be a good Christian for the nice church ladies but honestly I became a monster

      1. My parents never attended church. Mostly, I think because they grew up in very religious households — at least on the surface in terms of following the protocols and procedures. My mother’s father (raised her and her sister as a single father) had a list of things the girls weren’t allowed to do on Sundays such as chew gum, roller skate, or jump rope. Guess going back to Sunday as a day of rest.
        I don’t remember much about Sunday school — just that the rest of the class was way ahead of me. I did find my certificate of passing the first level. After that, I only had to go to sunday school and church when I lived with my grandmother.
        I took away from it all a sense that religion is dangerous in the wrong hands.

      2. My mom was raised Catholic, Catholic school the whole 9 yards she didn’t want to inflict that on me and though my grandmother really wanted me to go to Catholic school she refused. I don’t think for my parents sending me to church had anything to do with religion. It was babysitting, guaranteed food, and playtime with other children. My parents don’t carry about my religion whatever. My dad isn’t religious at all he just likes gospel music. Christianity was dangerous in my hands geez, I was a little monster. I only started to get peaceful and develop morality after I started to explore other philosophies and religions. I am more philosophical as an adult.

  6. Beautiful and sad. I’m sending big hugs and rainbows your way.

    Why is it that so many of us of lovely creative types had horrific childhoods? I think if we continue to write about it (not because we are still in that place) maybe, just maybe we can help raise awareness to the horrors that continue in other children’s lives.

  7. “welcoming earth…a voice that transcends darkness…I never asked why I should suffer…like Atlas I could endure this world…I was a ghost…”

    “to be heard and with this deafening pen…but if my words should have wings, to set free Another enslaved then I will strip myself feather by feather… That no one should remain buried in flightless isolation.”

    This poem resonates with me on so many levels, and I adore your writing. Your poetry has the ability to transport me into the depths of my past, my soul, my memories, my thoughts and my fears. You are truly an incredibly powerful writer who I greatly admire. I always look forward to reading your work and am never disappointed.

    Bianca xox

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