Tag: power

Posted in art, identity, poetry

Angry Poem

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Angry Poem I fought until I was the fool, until every word I said compounded insignificance, tacking on weightless syllables that fizzled into nothing as if I hadn’t said a thing at all, a person without a voice, not a person at all. For a moment I let the silence stick, crushed by insecurity as if speaking would reveal weakness, repulsed by my thoughts, my impulses, my actions, letting it all get to me regretting my voice regretting me. But something felt wrong to write about deficits, to strip away the intention of all those things I said, to say the meaning meant nothing. Those words mattered, fucking mattered, because I matter.

Don’t ever let someone make you feel like you don’t have a voice or that your voice has no weight. Be heard. Be yourself and be heard.

I love you guys.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in destiny, poetry, writing

Reclaimed

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Reclaimed She’d relinquished her existence long ago to everyone and everything but her own volition, accepting she couldn’t control the crying of the clouds, the sky exerting dominance on the people wrapped underneath like prisoners of a dictator. She let ominous intimidation tell her how to feel: tears breaking when it stormed, sadness infused in flash floods, billowing into the drains on the street, running below the city in an undercurrent of gloom. She lost sight of possibility, that even if it rained she could dance, that happenstance could align in spite of the wind fighting opposition with gusts of yesterday’s debris, that if she looked at the clouds from a different angle she could imagine whatever shapes she wanted. She stumbled with the sky’s discretion, thrown whatever direction its will decreed, falling to her knees, begging for mercy as her heart admitted defeat. She stared up at the sky, at the expanse of gray beckoning and heard nothing, realizing only then, that she’d imagined the grip on her destiny, that she could reclaim the faculty of living and just be.

This one is inspired by “Fight Song” by Rachel Platten. It’s been my anthem over the past month or so.

Have a great rest of your weekend!

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, creative writing, poetry, writing

Sprint

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Sprint They gave me a clipboard and a shot of authority, power chased with adrenaline, to prove to ride. People asked me questions, these followers that consumed my words like salty snacks. Handshakes locked congratulations into the day that disappeared, the nibbles of a midmorning munched into crumbs of memories by the afternoon, a déjà vu of fleeting confidence. Maybe someone will remember my face despite the finish line.

This wasn’t the poem I set out to write last night, but it didn’t matter. It’s always ok to let flow take liberties and even though my intention wasn’t quite satisfied, I accepted that my initial concept was a title for another day.

Break your own rules. Happy Monday. 

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

That Thing Called Trust

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

That Thing Called Trust I opened my heart to it, relinquishing power into your volition, touching my palm to yours and memorizing the comfort of unrestrained connection, allowing the circle around my fear to bend for you. I liked the way it felt, to grant you access to my sealed chest, leaving the door a little ajar, the nightlight always shining just in case you wanted to come in, even in the dark hours, in my dreams, the recesses of my head. I found faith there, faith that I was safe, that as long as I trusted without doubt this taken chance couldn’t hurt. I never expected you’d force me to flicker the light, that you’d be the one to swallow my love like whiskey, with a wince.

It’s a new week and I’m pumped to be back. I’m ready to write and so blessed to have you all here to listen. Thank you for standing by my side on this poetic journey.