She lives in her mind,
There is no escape since she has
Been a victim of abuse.
She feels trapped by the unforgettable event.
She goes out, fully covered and modest,
Yet why is there a lingering fear?
The echoing voice, telling her to go back home.
“You’re a survivor”, they say.
But is that the label she wanted?
Scenes from that day are seared into her brain.
Her limbs are now sand, delicate yet dense.
Being a survivor is exhausting.
Her chest tightens with panic,
It is heavy with all the weight she’s carrying.
She tries to blur her memories,
She tries to stop her sensitive eyes from tearing,
But she knows, sexual abuse holds only one person at fault,
And that’s the abuser.
Instead of saying, “you’re a survivor”,
“You did nothing wrong” offers an abundance of comfort.
Whispers of affirmation may stitch her heart fleetingly,
but the wound will still be raw, burning to be erased.
She has seen images similar to her own, an unusual solace
knowing that others have gone through the same.
Despite the harsh reality of it, these similar stories planted hope in her potent heart.
Now she walks alone, bearing a heavy burden.