** Trigger Warning **




















It’s all so deeply triggering to me right now.
I am not looking away.
I am staying awake like the last sober person at a wedding.
It’s hard to watch but I’ve been watching all my life.
My words won’t come out.
They are not ready.
My body has her own sweet time.
I stopped overriding her years ago like I was taught to.
My grief is gigantic.
It is gigantic.
I don’t think you’re really hearing me.
My grief is gigantic.
Can you hear it.
It is as old as the sea and so vast you would drown in it.
But not me.
This is my hood.
These are my gang.
My rage is simmering like coffee on the stove. I sip it slowly.
Label everything so for warned is prepared,
but there are no fucking girl guides here with their three fingers up in the air, like a good girl.
A good girl in uniform learning to fold hospital corners on beds and pack a tight travel bag, like that will save her and her disregarded tight pussy and the girl power posse symbol sewn with running stitch over where her perfect heart should be.
Ain’t that the truth of it.
And the Boy Scouts get their fair share too.
But there is no trigger warning. There is no way to prepare.
You can’t get comfortable so stop wiggling and sit still; like a good girl.
Sit on Santa’s lap while I take your photo.
Smile for me.
Have you been good this year.
Welcome to life.
Welcome to the shadow of your heart. The dark matter, the abyss, the well, the cave, the hollow ground.
Welcome to your shame. Welcome to being human. Welcome to your ugly grief and your desire to look away.
Don’t look away.
This has all really happened.
Every last drop of it.
Can I get a witness.

Om shanti
Lotus Kruse

{ written as an expression of solidarity to all the women, and men who have been abused. As a response to the avalanche of the #metoo outpouring }

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