The Blue Rose

Mission:  Healing Through Art 

  • Goal:  Empowering victims to break the silence and find their voice
My Blue Rose
Post traumatic stress


Disorder that comes in all
forms
a Sound,
a taste,
a smell or 
touch that 
Paralyzes you
and reminds you of that
Past traumatic experience… 
it holds you hostage  
every day of your life.

The fear built up in my body ------when this
Guy, tried to
Rape me 
at knife point… 

The blade still touches my neck 
With every 
story of another victim,
collar of my shirt, 
a breeze or passing though of a 
a knife, blade a penetrating glare..

causing my past trauma to reoccur 

searching for empowerment
healing through a new experience
poetry…. To see his ….
gaze for the first time,
Eyes locked… 
And when he spoke it was 
A language I could understand,
a message of truth and safety. 

poet to poet…
I lay with my muse… 
the anticipation
That something will trigger my past
Trauma. 
to cause me 
to push him away, and 
take control… 

But that never happens …..…the fear
Goes away 
with his every touch, 
exploration, and consumption of  
My body --- hands on the base of my neck, (a sigh of Relief),  
kisses so full of desire…

Orbiting Above the 
here and now.
Our bodies entwined 
as every touch tells Me we have time… 
a freedom, empowerment, the ability 
to be me  
to be myself …. The power to
Let this man take away my Past Trauma.
even if the stress only goes 
Away when we are together ….

it is a lot more than I’ve ever felt.

The belief that everything happens 
For a reason, 
If I could change my past would
It  change me?
my PTSD heals and grows
As every petal of the blue rose… 
a symbol of the unattainable, caution,
discretion. The excitement and possibilities
that new ventures bring,
A charm and unique mystery 
that does not reveal itself freely… 
the blue rose defines
And carries me 
to my friend, my lover, my muse… 
My blue rose 

I blacked out


I blacked out

When slammed on

the Hood of the squad car

     I saw nothing

     I saw No one

I never heard his voice

But I could feel the presence of a man

behind me

forcing me   

pulling at my left arm 

I could not break free, 

I hit the pavement

struggling 


Don’t touch me

my innocence was once stolen

I was not going to let it happen again 


Darkness

I see the boy downstairs

Tugging on my night gown

Laying on top of me…

Siblings did not wake.


Darkness

I see me

Hidden in older brothers room

Like little sisters do

Undercover he won’t find me

Neighborhood friends found me

Not one 

Four sets of hands…


No more sneaking a peek

No more coping a feel

No more tickling 

no more fondling


Wait “no, stop”


My eyes are burning, maced

tears drop from my face

Down on the pavement is cold

My ribs ached

Hands held in place

Knee at the base of my neck


Why are they hurting me

what did I do...

What do they want...


Darkness 

It’s big boy cousin

Quiet country side

Home alone … when he sits down

Beside me.

Hand placed into his shorts

Stroke, stroke, stroke

Breast squeezed around penis


Wait, no stop


Dear God 

Why is this happening to me

Violated as I wept

the police were supposed to keep me safe

I could not escape the feelings,

the memories of being raped


I heard their voices 

I saw nothing 

I saw no one


Darkness

Knife at the base of my neck

Out of body a common escape 

When constantly being raped

Triggered Flash backs

I blacked out

When slammed on the 

Hood of the squad car


Curled up on the pavement

Fighting to be safe

Blinded 

Hand cuffed

Body aches


I heard their voices

I saw nothing

I saw no one


I blacked out