As you open it, you may think it is a booklet: a booklet with a collection of poems. But closer examination will awaken your senses and you will see it for what it is; feel the pain it represents: and hear the desperate cries emanating from the depth of devastated female souls.

The cries are neither imaginary nor utopian, but part of a struggle, an ever- growing struggle emphatically shared and passionately voiced by women all over the world: women unequivocally opposed to any form of rape.

The rape of women has been a heinous reality throughout history with consequences that include violence requiring hospital treatment; an initial reaction of disassociation and emotional numbness; fear resulting from various factors including a reluctance to tell family and friends, becoming pregnant, or contracting a sexually transmitted infection; feelings of embarrassment, shame, and even guilt; depression while coming to terms with, or recovering from such a traumatic event; and recurrent dreams and nightmares as the brain endeavors to process, understand, and recover from what has occurred.

Rape has been anchored within the souls of all women since childhood irrespective of country, culture, ethnic group, or society. It is anchored in all women whether they have or have not been the victims of rape. Just opposing rape, however, is not enough because rape is a barbaric violation that has to be focused on and stopped.

Focusing on the depravity of rape and the ominous shadow of violence it casts over women requires the heartfelt voice of women to be passionately expressed and universally heard. Such expression can be elevated to the level of significant relevance with poetry wrought from the anguished words of women whose souls are crying out for a rape-free world where respect for human rights also includes the rights of all women.

Milena Rampoldi, Founder of ProMosaik

William Hanna, Human Rights Activist

Black Bird

Painting is for pictures

too hard to understand

so let me paint you a picture

of a girl

who has a little too much to understand..

her heart was a two ton brick in her fist

that kept her pinned

to the exact spot on the ground

he wanted her to be in

when she's 12

and those 27 minutes felt like eternity,

clinging to her sanity

like the last molecule of burned up air in a gas chamber

she slept on cindered feathers

sucking on the bones of her rotting body

holding back panicked breaths

like other kids hold stuffed animals

sinister smiling eyes

venom spit

splashed across her limbs

"You're so pretty.."

you're so pretty.

seeds of fear planted

in a daughter,

whose father,

didn't know,

she couldn't go any farther

the limbs of her body bare branched

creaking away from his whispered breaths

leaves burned up with the heat of guilt

hidden in the smoke are her pleading eyes

her roots ripped up and flung away

with the drop of his pants

gritting teeth sewn shut

with the bone needles of a broken bird

brittle body vibrating

against the pine tree that

looked "so pretty,"

two hours ago

two bodies

two lungs

pressed against the cage

that kept her soul contained

red and blue flashes

translate to blackness

and 6 years later

her sheets are still soaked

trembling with the sound of her own frozen voice

cracking

shattering

melting into puddles she tried to pick up

with dirty hands

and a dirty heart

dripping into the exact consistency

of the mud he left her in

fingernails full of his fingerprints

and the dew on the grass

came from her eyes

and the sheen off her body

clothing buried

and burned

smoking up to follow the bird

that unwillingly flew away

blacked painting hung up

on the pale bone frame

those 18 years and no one taught him a shred of decency

you'd think it should be inked into his humanity

but no.

she sings into the ashes

calling it back

lungs raw

throat black

she can't see his face

she can't know his name

she can't say that

she carved herself up like an animal

creating a scarred picture

everyone's seen before

but few have known

can't say that she breathes a storm

then pounds her body

until her tears turn red

and everything goes numb again

and she can finally believe for a second

your hands aren't his hands

If I knew her what could I say?

that there's something beautiful about skinned knees

and the fault lines in her eyes

and the way she scrubs her blood from the floor

and the fact that I can't stay quiet anymore

the flames my guilt fans

grow brighter when I think

that because I didn't speak

he could have gone on to ruin

another perfect thing

a perfect thing who's picture

looks a whole lot like mine.

They Can No Longer Hurt Me

Blood boiled in every vain,

Like a flicker in every flame.

Tears streaming from my eyes,

'Cause my life is built on lies.

Overpowered by my fears,

So I kept quiet for many years.

The secrets tore me up inside.

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For a World Without Rape

Introduction

Black Bird

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