Poetry

It Remembers

“My body, it remembers.
It remembers so much good
after so much horror.”

My body, it remembers. It remembers all those nights of heinous, unwanted invasions. What it was like when my skin crawled like a million tiny spiders. It remembers how it protected itself. What it was like to be a woman when it was still a child. To break into a thousand tiny pieces. To feel like dying, if only to end the pain.

My body, it remembers. It remembers the gentle touch of someone worthy. The meaning of worship and love. The sense of empowerment and elation, like a woman should feel. It remembers a tiny life, growing and strong. Every tiny movement, especially when that life reminded me everything was alright. The miracle. It remembers birth, joy, and relief. The astonishment of what it created. Perfection.

My body, it remembers. It remembers so much good after so much horror.

© Sarah Doughty
2016

There’s always hope
for a better future.

Advertisements

1 thought on “It Remembers”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.