השבוע עלה טור חדש שלי באון לייף שמתאר אלימות גינקולוגית בחדר לידה. ביקשתי מקוראות לשלוח לי סיפורים. תוך יומיים המייל שלי התמלא. הסיפור הראשון מופיע כאן בצורת שיר באנגלית. הכותבת אישרה את פרסום שמה המלא המופיע כאן.
אם נפגעת במהלך לידה, חווית חוויה טראומטית וצריכה תמיכה רגשית או עזרה משפטית, את יכולה לפנות לקו ליולדת של ארגון "נשים קוראות ללדת": info@kavlayoledet.org. הן שם בשבילך.
Motherhood
I can't resist the temptation to
mess with myself in mind once
I found him eating away the
insides and living between
three hour intervals it's magic
like coming out but from
much darker furniture and
finding the path to incarceration
visiting hours are every three hours
and especially at night
when you're all alone with
what you've created and everything's
torn and the stitches won't ever
mend all the way and no one
will ever be welcome there again.
Becoming an all-you-can-eat-buffet
buy one get one
free it's delicious and fills you up until you
overflow and find yourself in some pit on the
way to absolve him.
How could they do this
on the way in and out rip it apart and leave
it all rotten and pieces
what constitutes a person is well
beyond anything I ever dreamed of.
I have sparks of life
and I can give them out
like candy to little boys
and in life one is surrounded by
men. Some come in and some
out and maybe time is the
space in-between
so I play God with my
sparks – handouts
to those who deserve it?
But how can you tell
once you've been raped
by hospital procedures everything
looks different. Greener.
And everyone is there to see
and all of your secrets come gushing
and everyone knows
and what's yours is his.
I've started a business
lending out body
parts eyes to the sorry
breasts to the infants
and anyone else in the room
mouths are for no one
the smaller you are the more
attention you get
but all of my power was drained
out with my bloodbath