We Will Not Be Silenced Launch Event II

Blood Into Ink

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Join us for our second launch event on Facebook!

December 7 at 7pm-10pm

The editors and contributors are concluding a week of events in honor of the publication of We Will Not Be Silenced: The Lived Experience of Sexual Harassment and Sexual Assault Told Powerfully Through Poetry, Prose, Essay, and Art. Our live events are a great opportunity to learn more about the book’s origin, purpose, and contributors and get some sneak peeks of the powerful content.


OUR STORY

We Will Not Be Silenced: The Lived Experience of Sexual Harassment and Sexual Assault Told Powerfully Through Poetry, Prose, Essay, and Art is the brainchild of Kindra M. Austin, Candice Louisa Daquin, Rachel Finch, and Christine E. Ray. The four indie writers and survivors felt compelled to do something after the strongly triggering Kavanaugh Hearings. We decided that we would advocate, educate, and resist through our art.
We opened submissions for…

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Surviving the Void – A Tribute to the Healing of the Womb

I love Dena. ❤

Phoenix Ascended

I love every aspect of my life and those I share it with, let’s get that straight, but there is still a gut-wrenching ache in the depths of my soul and it just won’t seem to loosen its grip on me. Although every other chamber of my heart is overflowing with love, there is still a chasmic black hole in my heart that all the stars in the universe could not fill. It should be infused with light through self-love, the love reciprocated by those I care for and inner-peace and happiness, yet for some reason I cannot seem to tame the envious beast lurking within. Perhaps because, like most childless women who yearn to cradle precious life within them, I come face to face on a daily basis with subtle reminders of the one ability I lack – in every family photo taken, every school bus stop, playground, grocery…

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I Knew My Faults-Sarah Doughty

“I knew my faults.
And they always stared

back at me in the mirror.”

As long as I can remember, I knew my faults. They were engraved in my flesh, repeated so often that even I saw nothing else. I knew every one. Believed every one. I was every one.
I knew my faults when I was toddling around, learning how to speak, how to walk, how to cower.
I knew my faults when I began school. How I wasn’t smart enough, not social enough. How I was a target in school. And at night.
I knew my faults in the dark. I learned my best to do what was required of me, but I was never quite good enough. I knew what my hands needed to do, how my lips should stay soft, or how my hips were supposed to move with the right timing. After awhile, I knew those moves just enough to get by.

I knew my faults. And they always stared back at me in the mirror.

© Sarah Doughty

I Knew My Purpose-Rachel Finch

I knew my purpose
when little legs were
thrust apart,
foreign hands moulding my body
into a better fit for themselves,
shaping my form and my future.
I knew my purpose when they
took their turns and the skin on
my face didn’t burn beneath the salt,
but soaked it into every pore with a
remembering.
I knew my purpose when the
bruises painted my inner thighs
and even my silent lips couldn’t
hide the gospel.
I knew my purpose when the tears fell and
only the birds were listening.
Shades of hurt patterned my flesh and I was
already living in the knowing.
I would grow wings and beat them to the
sound of every whimper of a sister
and I would turn the betrayal into a war cry
for peace and justice

I Knew My Worth (originally published on Blood Into Ink)- Kindra M. Austin

I knew my worth when I was hot as fuck and
boys all lined up to
pet my cleft at the blind side of the playground—
dirty fingers
mercifully uneducated in the intricacies of
female anatomy

I knew my worth when I was hot as fuck in
middle school, despite my flat chest and
highly guarded cleft—
face of Helen and an ass that wouldn’t quit,
by the gods, I knew my worth

I knew my worth when I was hot as fuck and
high school boys poorly educated in the delicacies of
female anatomy
petted my cleft with excavating fingers—
I sang hymns for my molested hymen

I knew my worth when I gave birth
two weeks before graduation, and I was in love;
my sweet babe, my savior—
she taught me the truth of my worth

I Knew My Fate-1Wise Woman

 
I knew my fate when
Enraged voices penetrate
Vulnerable
Eyes closed tight
Dreaming of locks
Picked and set free
I knew my fate when
Words embedded
Forever me
Followed by scenes
Violent
Seen and unseen
I knew my fate when
Heart carried weight
Haunted
Day and night
Searching for savior
Bury the burden
I knew my fate when
Reflection revealed
Strength intrinsic
Click
An open door
Running no more


 

Wooden Spoon-Una Zingara (Sabrina Escorio)

We didn’t have to ask
The memories told themselves
Over tiramisu and espresso
While the smoke lingered
Off Nonna’s birthday candles
And Zia’s stale cigarette
That sat perched on her lips
Appearing glued in place
Their story rolled out like fog
Clouding vision
Just enough
To disguise their tears
As they reminisced
And we listened to bay city rollers
Huddled beneath a tiny radio
That balanced on the windowsill
The metronomic hum and thud
of the clothing dryer in the kitchen
Set the pulse of their conversation.

They kissed loved ones goodbye
Wearing clothes made of fabric
They could not afford
It was the sixties
Where damp cheek kisses
Replaced words of apprehension
Fear wrapped delicately
Within fantasy once fed forcefully
By the wooden spoon of heritage
Consumed
Whole
Heartedly
Then regurgitated over Atlantic waves
Their stomachs emptied
That no dream could fill
Lost somewhere between
The warm Genoa sky
And a cold rocky
Dartmouth crest
A two week hollowing of sorts
This pilgrimage set forth
Within the belly of their dream
That roared and ached until satisfied
Left to carve faith from their bones
Then use it as a buoyant reverie
Preserving life
Securing hope
Refining their dream

 

© Sabrina Escorcio
April 2018

Heritage series

Photo credit to Alfred Eisenstaedt


Sabrina was born to Italian Catholic immigrant parents in the beautiful Niagara region in Ontario, Canada. Surrounded by nature and raised on a self-sustaining farm, nature and faith are two predominant themes often appearing in her work. She grew up with a love for nature, the dramatic arts, music, as well as books and literature. After years of journaling Sabrina came to know poetry, as an adult this became an avenue of self-expression during a time of personal strife. This hunger for poetry was insatiable, leading her to scour second hand book stores for more inspiration. There she found classic authors such as Percy Shelley, Tennyson, and Sylvia Plath, as well as many obscure poets; She began to transform her journaling into the realm of confessional poetry. One of her favourite pieces is titled “Dark Pines Under Water” written by the Canadian poet Gwendolyn Mac Ewen. Sabrina hopes to feature her poetry in print one day, she can also be found on Tumblr as “una-zingara”.