Yesterday, I was honored to once again interview Luis J. Rodriguez for an upcoming episode on Poetic Resurrection. We spoke for about two hours and we had an amazing conversation about many subjects, including sexual abuse. Being a survivor of this, I had written the poem The Little Girl featured in my first book, Inspire Me: Raw. I’m grateful to my parents for being there for me. It was an experience I thought I had overcome since I could talk about the situation. But, I hadn’t.

It wasn’t until I wrote the poem that I could release the shame and trauma I was holding onto. It served no purpose but to keep me down. Why would I want to hold on to that? The situation is that we sometimes don’t know we’re still holding onto the past. It has a way of showing up as a trigger and that’s when I knew I had to work on letting go. I don’t believe in “forgive and forget”. Yes, I can forgive, but you don’t forget. You learn to forgive them and yourself for holding onto so much pain throughout your life.

I’ve noticed many survivors talk about their experience and I wanted to do the same; I just wrote from the perspective of the child, because the child doesn’t understand.

And now the poem

The Little Girl from Inspire Me: Raw

The little girl walks to school

Tenements line gray streetsShe does well in schoolHer five-year-old statureShows resistance & strength

Drawings of prismic colors

Joy and glee adorn her faceHesitant to show teacherWaiting for praise—teacher questionsShe understood but couldn’t answer

Teacher screams at her

Points—to disappear intoThe sea of moveable deskShe gazes at her tattered shoesHer friend speaks English, she does not

Colorless teacher was unkind

To the little girlWho only speaks SpanishTears flow down her faceShe hides - the teasing kids

Goes home, keeps to herself

Pretends to be an actressLiving a world that wasn’t her ownOnly hearing voices of a different landCitizens we are, but not considered same

Pretending so young to be okay

Her seven-year-old friendSaid she wanted to playA store basement, dark and clammyHer friend gazes on while she screams“It hurts,". “Why did you do this?”

A teenage boy

Took friend’s innocence andNow he’s taken the little girl’sHer soul and worthBut she doesn’t understand

The store owner saves her,

Atop soaring stairsBold voice of disgustVibrates the cryptBoy halts, he runs

She now rests at home

A peeling grey wood porchThird-floor view—sits on stepSunless hallwayLooking at the sky so blue

Doesn’t know how she got there

Mind’s a haze of eventsDiscolored panties, hand washed oftenAdvertise the status of her little life

The bandages trying to hold

The innocence lost. It’s too lateMom looks at her—Turns away and cries.Did she do something wrong?Sorry you’re hurting; doesn’t know what to do

I’m sorry mom

Don’t mean to make you cryDon’t mean to make you cryTears never came to meThe little girl who didn’t understand