HOPE brought us together. . .

(What you see here is my first dabble into the world of poetry. I fully admit I really don’t know anything about poetry other than I like to read it and it would be cool to write it, especially tucked away in a really awesome loft overlooking New York City, or the ocean, or anywhere other than my kitchen table.   P.S.– If you are a “real” poet and you stumble across this, go easy on me. Thanks. My ego appreciates it. And P.S.S. if you are a regular reader, this is a departure from the usual. Harsh language included but completely warranted or maybe you just had to be there?)

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HOPE brought us together

This weekend I had the privilege of spending 12 intense hours with 17 incredible people. Most were strangers to me yet it didn’t matter. We all came together with different stories, backgrounds, and for different reasons. Again,  it didn’t matter. We shared our stories of HOPE without fear of judgement or shame– surrounded only by love and compassion as we released the pain. Survivors, change-makers, and advocates coming together with one voice, one mission, and one HOPE. . .to end childhood sexual abuse. There is no way possible to put into words the courage and compassion that I witnessed. It will be forever held in my heart. I am so grateful to have had this opportunity. Now, without further adieu, here’s my little poem.

F**k Lemonade

Strangers.

Fragmented souls–broken– but not shattered.

Stories of  sorrow, suffering, and pain.

Strangers unite.

No longer bound by silence, secrecy, and shame.

Strangers no more.

We rise together on waves of courage, compassion, and love.

Hearts woven together.

Our light radiates brighter than the sun.

They tell us. . .

“When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.”

We say…

“F**K lemonade, we are survivors.”

Our warrior souls lovingly connected.

Together, we forge ahead.

Forever, demanding change.

To the amazing souls I was honored to grow and heal with this weekend, I am forever grateful. Much love to you all.

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2 thoughts on “HOPE brought us together. . .

  1. Right away, I thought of this quote from a book I read.

    I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.”
    ― Chris Cleave, Little Bee

    Now, I look at my scars in a much different light.

    Kandy

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