GUEST WRITER: PETER MOHAWKEY

I wrote this poem for a friend of mine, who’s a rape victim. She’s one of the strongest souls I know.

Its weird. She rushes whenever there’s a guy, who shows any intention. She’s wondering why? In the pursuit of love, or a form of it? Cause she’s tired of looking in the mirror and vomiting. The innocence of her youth. Abused once. Three guys, 2 knives , and now she has a son. Its hard, being a rape victim. The contradiction, when she looks into his eyes. Memories of a broken night that fucked up her life. At the same time, a face that generates so much strife. Taking pills as she contemplates suicide. As she looks into his eyes, could love grow there? He’s got her eyes, her lips, her curly hair. But the skin tone isn’t quite on par. Every difference, a distance, driving her far. A gap between this soul, that she wishes she never had. Plus the uselessness she feels makes a good girl go mad. Her soul dakened, she views all her acts as being bad. Now she looks for funds from another sugar-dad. Cause drugs are her escape, from her date-rape. She needs to levitate, as she feels she’s fallen from God’s grace. Longing for an embrace, his arms stretching out. Her palms, heavy now, she struggles to give a smile. She can barely stand his sight. As she questions if two wrongs make a right. Cause way back when she could’ve ceased his life. She made a choice, and decided to do what’s right. He’s in a basket, en route to an orphanage. He gives her a great big smile as she drops it. And a tear comes down crushing like a commit hit. A lil grin as she holds him in her hands. A sense of pride as she lifts him up like lion king. A king he is, God’s gift, as life has no limits. A single mother, suddenly in need to raise her only kid. She turns around and retraces her steps back. Gets back home and lays her son on her lap. He giggles as she kisses his forehead. Then places him in a cradle and tucks him into bed. Four years on and she’s still going strong, now sparkling. Plus she just finished her degree in marketing. She heads back home, and she looks at him. Besides her boyfriend, thinking this almost never happened. A poem dedicated to a friend. On heritage day, I would like to acknowledge your passing of strength! We love you.

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