The Millstone

TW: Child Abuse and Religious Trauma

When I was just a little child;

A child of nine or eight. 

I was hurt in the worst possible ways,

By the men who on innocence predate.

Jesus once said that men such as this, 

Would be better off drowned in the sea,

With millstones hung around their necks. 

So why is there a millstone on me? 

I’m told forgive, move on, forget,

Or that something is wrong with me.

Each day I’m crushed beneath the weight,

While those who abused me seem free.

I look for relief, an escape from the pain, 

As I stare into the depths of the sea.

If I sink down into that darkest abyss,

The stone might feel lighter on me.

We, the survivors of assaults and rapes,

Feel shameful, afraid and alone.

Just listen to us and learn of our pain, 

You can help lighten the weight of that stone.

I yearn for a day when the millstone is gone,

And I can walk with my back held straight. 

I’d push that stone into a calm blue sea,

And be freed of shame, fear and hate.