A Story of Religious Abuse and Torture

Introduction:  This piece is a contribution from an abuse survivor.  It details extreme abuse and could be triggering to readers.  Please consider caution if you are a trauma survivor.   By Lusciana Philomena I was born in the US in the nineties. My sister was quite older than me. She had her own issues, but … Continue reading A Story of Religious Abuse and Torture

The Current Tide

TiredMoroseFlatThis feels likeAn aftermathOf the rubbleFrom a space shuttleI was never meantTo depart from. Thinking of homeI am a Universal vagabondWith my heart strapped on;Ripped so many timesThere is no more liningFor stitches,So I wrap it in twineTie a knot inside my chestA place to tetherThe sadness. Stop trying to fixThe broken heartedWith your big … Continue reading The Current Tide

Un-Acknowledged

What does it feel likeTo be a ghost shunned;A soul un-grieved,Un-missed and unforgiven? In the hovering bowelsOf mysticism where theCynics hang their hats,She waits to beAcknowledged. In these times thereIs a satisfaction in thisInter-dimensional reaction;When spirit feels the wishingJust like we didWhen we were littleAnd hurting. "You are undeserving." I see her thereWeeping. She isRepeating … Continue reading Un-Acknowledged

Falling Silent

The shame of cult lifeNever leaves you. It follows like shadowsReflecting moments youAren't sure if you; Said something right,Did something right,Knew about a thing,A song, a phrase orA time period. You are constantlyEncountering momentsBeing sunk into an abyssOf dark absence. Will I ever notFall silent, when friendsEcho the shows fromA childhood INever laid eyes on? … Continue reading Falling Silent

To Be a Warrior 

To be a warrior one must learn to wait silently in the shadows. We must gather our quiet into the arching pull back of our bow. We must watch. We must observe. We must not fall into senses of time. To be a warrior one must paint themselves into the colors of their own vulnerability, … Continue reading To Be a Warrior 

Hourglass

There's a faded line Between reality and time I Catch myself remembering rejection Straddling a log fence watching Them play and laugh and shout Odd girl out Too loud I used to be an expert at stilts Stride the mud like a queen I could do anything If I just believed but I never prayed hard enough to Make God real and It would be a version of Drop Dead Fred who Emerged the memories in my head Read more...