A Pale Scrawl
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The DNA of trauma

10/9/2016

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Picture
The DNA of trauma runs in my veins
A legacy of generations of violation and
Personal violence
My mother
And her mother
And her mother
And me
Survivors of physical onslaught


With eyes on the fronts of our faces
We are meant to be predators
But as women
We are prey
Trained by experience
To scent hunters on the wind
To feel boozy breath
On the small hairs of your neck
Before it lands
To deftly avoid strong fingers and palms
That will grasp you firmly and not let go
Until pale flesh blossoms blue black
To hear the words
Bitch
Whore
Cunt
Before they're spoken
To save your life
Before it's taken from you


Cells are encoded with
Hidden switches
Waiting to be thrown
Connecting the circuit
Illuminating our potential
Become large with the threat
Beat back the assailant
Send him yelping back into the woods
To lick his wounds


When you have nothing left to lose
Nothing else can be lost
Contribute everything you've got
Breed ferocity in your daughters
Instead of fear


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