To all the persons who know that violence isn’t just guns,
and those who learnt that monsters don’t always live under the
bed,
or always come in the form of beasts or goblins.

The biggest monsters humans face are of our own creation –

Like that secret voice inside your head
Telling you that you are too much of something
You have always been too much of something
And you probably always will be.

Or when it tells you that you are not enough
You have never been enough
And you will never be enough
So why do you keep trying?

Especially if this inner monologue is performed out-loud, when
another takes your doubts without ever even being told them and
recites them back to you, as if people had always known them.

To all the persons who know that violence isn’t just guns,
and those who learnt that the people who love you don’t always
want what’s best for you, or
always even know how to love you to begin with.

When worn-out women have been looked in the eyes, and all the
while, their partner hasn’t seen the fears projected back into their
own reflection, staring back at him, as if she were a mirror.

Don’t see how their words have long since eroded your varnished
veneer, like violent paint stripper… don’t see how hard you think
before you speak…
too weak to face another argument,
caused by unknowingly being the finger on the trigger to their anger
– like when you bought the wrong thing for dinner last week.

To all the persons who know that violence isn’t just guns,
and those who learnt that clinking bottles don’t always mean
success,
and rarely mean cause for celebration.

The fact known all too well that little white lines like chalk-dust
lead to toxic degradation

Beaten bodies who don’t know what they can do hiding bruises
black and blue
Don’t know where to turn next
When their moral compass has been out-of-action for so long
Caused by being the finger on the self-destruct trigger
– believing in the lies that you don’t deserve, or won’t find anyone
better…

This is to all the persons who know that violence is much more
than just guns
And those who learnt that self-doubt doesn’t always stem from
the self.

This is to the people, broken from hitting the ground hard,
Grounded themselves and refused to stay down

This is to all those beautiful fractured bodies
Slowly putting the pieces of themselves back together Fragile
vessels, taking back possession of themselves
This is to everybody who uses their pain to help others
And to those who know that #MeToo wasn’t just a Facebook
trend, but a promise to fight for dignity, justice and respect

This is to fragile figures still learning to cradle their own curves
Still learning to worship every. single. building block of their temple
And to those still learning to love themselves from the inside out…

Me Too.

 

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LAURA KESTREL is a West-country girl at heart, the beautiful landscape and not-so-beautiful realities of growing up in Cornwall, England have always influenced Laura, as a way to express herself in a way that no other medium quite could. An empowering voice, she focuses on giving strength to the female presence in society. In 2016, she represented South-West England in the National Poetry Anthology.

 

Copyright © 2018 by Laura Kestrel. All rights reserved.