Do You Even Know What You’re Worth? – Marvlyn Vincent

You’re here,

You were placed on this earth,

Yes I admit,

Sometimes,

Being here hurts,

Life can be rough

Existence means pain,

Instead of the sunshine,

We’re showered by rain,

We’re losing our minds,

We’re going insane,

But what if we choose to acknowledge our pain,

Embrace our circumstances,

Bathe in the rain,

Somehow,

That simple truth, could lessen that pain,

We learn to do that,

Over and over,

Again and again,

Now the tides are turning,

Our minds slowing

We’re no longer running,

Wait,

Hold up,

I feel something,

Is it appreciation?

Or self deprecation?

Oh wait,

No,

Play that feeling again,

Just a little,

no ……we want more,

For what we’re feeling,

We must be sure,

Our minds are twisted,

Confidence depleted,

We must dig deep,

Reach in,

Pull ourselves together,

For we are so much more,

Than our brother’s keeper,

You can’t measure our worth

Cause we’re priceless,

And We’ll hold on to  that belief,

From now on regardless.

Marvlyn Vincent was born and raised in the Caribbean. She migrated to the United States more than a decade ago, not just in search of a better life, but also to literally save her life. As a child Marvlyn started writing poetry as an escape from the horrors of her reality, but also as an outlet for her pain. This was her way of sharing the things that she could not speak about. Today she still write about her past experiences, however, she’s also developed her writing to include the resolution that has gotten her through the hard times. Marvlyn runs the Harmony Place helping people with trauma and PTSD.

Seize the female – Candice Louisa Daquin

You’re just a little thing, a flim flam thing

something of no consequence if you choose to see it that way

and if you do, you’ll walk into rooms, drooping head, sagging shoulders

nobody will even see

that’s the gait of defeat baby and it’s yours for the taking

as nobody, I mean nobody, wants to inherit that dried up mantle

so tell yourself you’re not going to be a cliché

the girl with no self-esteem

who picks herself apart the way some will eat paper and others scabs

even if it’s true you didn’t have the calcium back then

you’re here now and you’re among the fray

nobody likes a debbie downer

remember the girl you were at ten

who wore a smart ass comment any time someone

tried to knock them to the floor?

she was a bad ass warrior and you can be too

it’s in there somewhere, lost among the ‘what if’s’ and other fears

so you don’t like what you see in the mirror and you think that gives you

special privileges to hate yourself?

many women wear their scars, many women do not possess the art

of beauty and despite this they apologize for nothing

and pursue what they want with single-mindedness

you were brought up to think the only power you had was a pair of long legs

and big eyes but they’ll only get you so far

the rest comes from a place that isn’t written down

it’s the seat of the female and all her power

that’s why we lose ourselves in plastic moments and forget

the real allure isn’t a small waist it’s a large brain

conquer your self loathing and come out of your shell

whether you’re whole or incomplete nobody can tell

give yourself over to the riot of it all

you only live once make it count

chase the dream

chase the girl

damn them all

Tribe – Candice Louisa Daquin

Hold still

it won’t hurt

and if it does

then it’s your fault anyway

you’re lucky to be getting anything

if it were up to me, I would leave you where they found you

hunched in a mess of splayed arms and legs, barely moving

you must have asked for it somehow

they all do

Hold still

it will hurt

because for ages women have sought

to repair their broken parts, find a way to piece together

those patches of their souls

only to be berated and shamed

hobbled, judged, vilified

burnt a second time with stronger brand

what is it within humanity, wants to further damage?

the survivor

hold on

it shouldn’t hurt

we are creatures of the fall, we are not fallen, we are good

women ride alongside men in equal canter

when one of us is hurt, it hurts us all

love heals the torn soul

in a world that does not exist, I would claim a dream

no violence, no rape, no distortion of events

but that world is far from here

hold on

some of us stand next to you, helping

as you feel you cannot go on

you can

as you feel you are going to give up

you won’t

you are a woman of us all

you share our strength

we form a circle together and hold hands

there is no damnation if you refuse permission to damn

there is only the power of sisterhood

hold on to your tribe

the only shame is when we don’t stand

together

 

Blood Into Ink #MeToo Writing Contest First Place: Kristiana Reed/To Blaze

To Blaze Kristiana Reed image

These women didn’t rescue voices

to watch you bow out

of this life and the next,

the weight of shame and scandal

sinking you to their knees

all bloodied and bruised.

 

These women didn’t raise hands,

two in subjugation

then balled fists in protest,

to read apologies

written in the faintest ink,

ghastly lit in camera flashes.

 

These women didn’t speak

then burn through

shattered rosy glasses,

to be painted over

as misshapen forms

smothered in misogyny.

 

These women didn’t march streets

paved by men

in debased gold,

to listen to your vitriol

and Viagra fuelled lies,

their bravery branded a weapon.

 

No.

 

These women were born into shivering hands

of mothers and fathers,

to blaze so brightly

the pigment in your glassy eyes

will vanish, before you stamp her

into the ground.

 

Into the earth which bore her forth.


Kristiana Reed juggles writing and teaching English; in both vocations she endeavours to remind people of their self worth and how dazzlingly beautiful the world can be.

You can read more of Kristiana’s writing at My Screaming Twenties