Coco

The Survivalist 

They tell me that I am a Miracle of life! 

Part of medical history at age two! 

They carved a big C –

From beneath my toddler chin, 

to behind my rose petal size left ear.

My tracheotomy a mynute nick back then.

Now it’s the size of a quarter, 

but people often say – 

they don’t even notice it.

Until I mention it that is….

My life expectancy was 5

I can’t imagine my mother’s grief,

my father’s rage, 

the innocence of my eyes 

drinking in their trauma.

After 5 hit they gave me the gift 

of 4 more years!

My stiches had long since healed 

and yet I was still coming apart

from the inside out.

Age 9 I stood with a lighter in hand

I decided with all the trauma I had faced;

rape, molestation, surgery after surgery.

If this was what life was –

then I didn’t want one. 

You can see the shift in my eyes,

from age 8 to 9.

Like a burnt-out candle.

A vignette is very fitting 

to the dark shadow that lurches over me.

Baffled at how I made it past 9,

the doctors give me 9 more years!

Holidays with aggressors –

Birthdays spent with pedophiles.

A practiced stage worthy smile upon my face.

If I am a miracle of anything at this point –

then I am the miracle of survival… 

Reflections

I used to tell people I was Frankenstein’s Daughter

he was the only person I could ever relate to.

The scars that traced my neck, 

and the misunderstood demeanor. 

How no one speaks our language –

grunts and disengaged looks from a hallowed spirit. 

They don’t understand our triggers,

nor do they care how hot our inner fire burns.

Just after we were created doctors cried out; 

“It’s a miracle!”

They never said what kind,

nor did they tell us we were just an experiment. 

As I look in the mirror its hard to see a miracle 

when all the world sees is a monster.