Like firecrackers when I learned to hurl back! The person my trauma turned me into causes my brain to equate vulnerability with death. My words became my armour, and born with a scorpion tongue, they sting like venom.
I loved this so much! I enjoyed watching the podcast with Outtamydamnmind yesterday; she's excellent. So were you, and I relate to a lot of your story.
“My first words were gifts” to “now my words are an anchor” that arc alone wrecked me. This feels like reclaiming language after it learned how to wound. Thank you for sharing something this raw and alive.✨
Bravo! (Or would it be brava?) You crushed it with the voiceover.
Thank you! I'm glad the voice-over worked out. Poetry is so much better when you can hear the words.
True! And this was so much more personable than the automated voices, which is how I usually listen to Substack posts.
Wow, this is great, I can feel your words!
Thank you. That is such a great compliment to a poet!
You earned it ✨☺️
😍😍😍
Like firecrackers when I learned to hurl back! The person my trauma turned me into causes my brain to equate vulnerability with death. My words became my armour, and born with a scorpion tongue, they sting like venom.
I loved this so much! I enjoyed watching the podcast with Outtamydamnmind yesterday; she's excellent. So were you, and I relate to a lot of your story.
I like the innocence to the fall to beyond. Nicely done.
Wow!
Glad it wowed you! I've been working on this poem for a while not, some don't feel finished, ever, but I wanted to put it out there.
You can add to it! It can evolve with you.
Yes, great idea. Our work is constantly evolving as we are, too.
“My first words were gifts” to “now my words are an anchor” that arc alone wrecked me. This feels like reclaiming language after it learned how to wound. Thank you for sharing something this raw and alive.✨