I read a story today about a 14 year old girl who
had been found dead under her 27 year old boyfriend’s bed.

Read that again. And again…

Many things ran through my head as I read the words.

With every word I felt anger rise and tumble into itself within me like snakes thrown into a pit; each time slithering towards the top; each time more snakes on top; each time never getting out

The tumble that built and built and clawed like a beast fighting its last and refusing to die. Each breath slipping. Each punch weaker and weaker. The tumble that imploded into itself and became nothing.


Anger; tumultuous. Replaced not even by sadness but by nothing. Stillness. Silence. Nothing.

The thought:

I no longer know how to feel-
for girls like me
girls like you, like her
for girls who’ve had their bodies torn and dispossessed from them
girls who no longer own any part of themselves
for girls whose families will never speak of what has happened
the torture anwritteng only silence can give

Feeling is where the anger lives. The anger that blinds and makes me stumble through my life like a drunk- crawling at times
Looking for myself in dark corners of myself. Looking for what reminds me most of myself
Myself alive

Girls like me. Girls like you. Girls like her.

I no longer know how to feel-
for girls who walk this earth
for girls whose mother’s rivers wind, wind and never cease for the return of their daughters to the earth

Daughters birthed into the searing fire that is this world;
Baptised in the burden of possessing
this body and all the parts that come with it
How does one begin to feel again when life is almost at it’s end after a long time of being choked out of you?

*Originally written May 2015 at time article was printed/posted.


2 thoughts on “No longer knowing…

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