The things she carries

She remembers burying

specific memories.

 

She remembers

all the moments they

attempted to

resurrect.

 

She remembers

the open hands

of children

who were promised

bright futures.

 

She remembers

red,

splashed across her memories

like spilt milk.

 

She remembers

coming home –

shaken, confused –

She remembers

crying, blaming herself,

hating herself.

Then confessing,

“he… he… he raped me.”

 

She remembers

society telling her to look

into a cracked mirror.

 

She remembers

a frayed version

of herself

staring back at her – broken, afraid, lost

 

She remembers

society pointing fingers

She remembers

society saying,

“you asked for it.”

 

But today,

she rose.

Today,

she took back control.

 

Tomorrow,

she will remember today.

She will remember

standing up,

speaking out.

 

She will remember

accepting,

then rising.

She will remember

the feeling of home.

 

She will remember

being loved

unconditionally.

 

She will remember

that every scar

will eventually heal.

 

Tomorrow,

she will remember today

as the day she healed.

 

Today, she rose.

 

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