Emily

given life
by a child
only 13
parents seperated
when she turned 3
raised in the projects
raped at 11
sent to catholic school
to at least ensure heaven
2 years later
what happened had changed her
her family traveled
in hopes that could save her
and at age 13
she was raped by her neighbor

she turned to prositution
& was jailed for her "crime"
she sang
"body and soul"
for a home,
for a dime
unrecognized
overlooked
& segregated
she sang for her soul
she found music in hatred

she fell to numbness
using drugs for her pain
& for 8 months
she was jailed, once again

Alrighty so I haven't been on here in QUITE some time - I feel bad about it but I want to make an effort!

Where should I start? Or IS there someplace to start? I could post poems/stories and all of that but to be involved, that *involves* reading other girls blogs and there are so many and I just can't figure out where I should go first?! Help!

I'm suffering from a sinus infection and just got back from Michigan Womyns Festival! I have so much to tell everyone but the fact that I feel like I just might cry from the frusturation of this pain, is keeping me.
I'll be on as soon as I am feeling better!!!

in the depths of my perception
i can feel your heavy presence
pieces of her still collect in your eyes
its nothing but distracting
i'm trying not to act on it
every nothing uttered is a lie

i fumble to avoid you
as i humbly walk toward you
the least that you could do
is seem to try
from the corners of my lips
i mutter "i wish you didn't love her"
its the moment that you begin to cry

a waterfall of promises
and everything we hold to this
my tears cleverly hidden
don't ask, i don't know why
i just wanted to love you
with expectations no higher than the truth
and you put me on a pedestal

she misses him
the laughter
the tears
the silence
when he was there
it was sweet
like wax
forming into a pile of art
dew dropping from metal
to land
unspoken small &
meaningful drunken kisses
forbidden time
spent together
the nostalgic smell
of freshly cut grass
cold sheets
on sweaty, warm, soft skin
how smiles meet across
a crowded room
meaning more than
even something
"significant"
the expectancy of her hand
in his
the downpour of rain on fast cars
how beautiful
someone is remembered
how much more beautiful
they are upon sight
he must miss her

I am Emily. Hear me roar.

Singing is my second language, poetry is my first. I like to think of myself as an accumulative of the women in my life (Jeyoani, Betsey and Mae being three of them). Thats not to say that I am not my own person, because I very much am. I am just aware that I would not have the courage to be exactly who I want to be without the unconditional love from the ones I look to for acceptance. The women who have always been there, for me.

I have a hard time talking about the things that I have been through because in a way I feel like, I need to be a stronghold for everybody else. That admitting that, yes, I have gone through a lot of hard things in my life will take the attention off of the people I am trying to help and put it on me. In that situation, I would have to be okay with the fact that the things that have happened to me, are not the things that make me who I am and that is one of my biggest fears (that I AM what has happened to me). I'm hoping that this project will help me to be more accepting of myself.