I held the spoon while you held the flame
That melted your sweet toxicity of illusion for my veins.
I broke and shattered as you raped my wife,
Killed my husband, degraded my sexuality,
Called me whore, crack head, queer, dyke,
Nigger, spic and all the like.
Remnants of who I once was lay adrift in your sea of hate and pain.
On the shoreline of your subconscious,
I begin the task of gathering
What remains of who I am.
Piece by piece, I find my heart, my soul, my brain,
And mend them back together again, using my history as the glue.
They do not fit quite the same;
The tears and loss leave scars and breaks
that seemingly are unending.
Slowly I crawl, find strength and stand.
Again you hurl your fears at me.
I cut and bleed, but oddly now,
What looked like flaws, become as joints and stretch and flex
As I bruise and bleed and cry but do not break or separate.
My past becomes my armour
Not to guard my heart
But to break into yours.
You will see and feel and taste my rage,
Not in revenge,
But in offering
Of a different way,
I am strong.
We are stronger.
People Living With HIV and AIDS.