Please be advised: his page contains poetry that addresses mental illness, trauma, and self-harm. If you or someone you know needs mental health assistance please visit: https://www.mentalhealthfirstaid.org/mental-health-resources/

A Few Moments of Softness

A poem written as a tribute to sexual assault victims and survivors. Read during Denim Day, April 2024 hosted by the Office for Social Justice & Diversity, Montclair State University.

It is not easy to be a human being

it is made more challenging if you are in a marginalized body

or if you have experienced significant trauma.

It requires bravery to be human and to exist as our authentic selves

our society values power, money, and conformity

often making our bodies feel unsafe

violence and hate are thrust upon them

as if we can control the body we are born into.

We spend much of our lives hating our bodies

trying to change or erase the marks of our past

but scars are powerful memories reminding us that we survived

that our body carried us through the darkest moments

and the moments of pure joy.

Throughout our lives we are told to be strong

to resist and fight back against our oppressors

but when do we take the time to care for ourselves?

our physical bodies?

I want to offer you all a few moments of softness

let me be your strength so you can be gentle

let me help you carry the load of your worries of your sadness.

I want to give you this moment to drop into your body and check-in

how are you feeling?

if you feel comfortable doing so please put one hand over your heart

and the other over your stomach

feel free to close your eyes if that helps you to tune-in.

As we reflect, some of you might feel discomfort

anxiety, excitement, hunger, or even overwhelm

so let’s settle into our bodies for a moment

without judgment, disdain, or fear

and say, “thank you.”

Thank you body for keeping me alive

for working to keep me safe even when I try to harm myself

thank you for allowing me to walk through nature,

hug my loved ones, and care for a motley crew of pets

thank you for waking each day to take in the sunlight

and sleeping each night so I feel rested and ready

thank you for doing all of this while I hated, disrespected, or ignored you.

Dear body, you are the definition of unconditional love.

I invite you all to open your eyes again if you had them closed

look around at the bodies that make up this community

vibrant, diverse, and beautifully flawed

all of us connected by our lived experiences of our human body

healing together.

Togetherness is essential and our humanity binds us

and so, I’ll conclude with a call for radical love and acceptance

of your own body

and of all of the bodies you encounter

while we are all so much more than our bodies

they are our only vehicle in this world

our forever home and the longest relationship we will ever have.

If we radically love and accept our bodies

each other’s bodies

we can create a revolution.

Say it one more time, all of us, together

“Thank you, dear body. I love you.”

For Those We Lost Far Too Soon

A poem to honor and remember students who passed away; read for the Office for Social Justice & Diversity’s annual Impact Awards, Rites of Passage and Lavender Graduation Ceremonies. May, 2024 at Montclair State University.

Shame used to be my inner voice.

As a college student, I had severe social anxiety, 

depression, and an eating disorder.

I didn’t have the language to advocate for myself.

Mental illnesses were not something anyone was talking about, 

I just thought something was deeply wrong with me

and I thought I was alone.

In January of my sophomore year, 

the cold darkness of winter was viscous, as was my depression

I tried to end my life

Every detail of that afternoon sticks with me 

like sweat clinging to every pore on my body

I had curled up on my dorm room floor, burning up, sobbing.

wishing so hard to just not exist anymore

So I could stop living a life for everyone else

So I could stop trying to fix my broken body and brain.

Another student called an ambulance,

I was rolled out of my dorm room on a stretcher

I covered my face with a blanket because I was so ashamed

Luckily, I failed at that attempt

and I stand here in front of you all tonight, alive.

So, when the Office of Social Justice and Diversity 

asked me read a poem to honor the students we have lost

I knew this was a special moment

because I was almost one of those students

Nearly lost, forever nineteen

I share this story with you not to make this about me,

Because this event is about all of us.

We’re here tonight to celebrate all of you graduating students,

to recognize social justice service on this campus,

and to remember those who we lost far too soon

We are a community built on trust and care

We shouldn’t blame ourselves, for the signs are often hidden

No one individual is at fault. 

Society failed those students,

Just as society has failed many of us who are faculty, staff, family members, or friends.

Let’s take these next few moments together 

and grow our capacity for patience and compassion

let’s give ourselves, and each other, grace

For all of us who have ever felt broken and alone,

For those who cannot figure out how to treat their illnesses, 

or how to deal with the sociopolitical chaos that is ever growing.

For all of us, who are still coming into our power 

and understanding sexuality, spirituality,

or how our culture shapes our identities.

For all of us who are rebuilding, 

digging out from underneath ash and tears and hate and shame.

For those who must leave behind their families, or their friends

to safely be themselves. 

Together we are powerful allies and advocates for change, 

When we talk openly about our own experiences and challenges

We remove stigma and create safe spaces for care

Now, I remember that afternoon in January, 

cold as it was, as a gift that I’ll always cherish

The thought of it warms me from my stomach to my throat

Reminding me that the blood is still rushing through my body

My breath still fills my insides and leaves my body in a sigh

I am alive. 

We are alive.

We are not broken. We do not need fixing. 

and we should have no use for shame.

All of our identities and feelings and experiences are all valid.

But there are many people that do not believe this to be true for themselves

And there are students who should be here with us tonight, 

survivors, like me, but cannot join us any longer.

So we must continue to speak up on their behalf, and ours.

So before we go on celebrating, 

let's spend a few moments in silence

So we can send our love, our care, and eternal peace

To those we wish could be here with us tonight

We honor you. We miss you. And we will never forget you.

The Challenges of Having a Body

A poem written for the Montclair Township Disability Pride Rally, co-hosted by the Disability Caucus of Montclair State University. May, 2024 at Montclair High School lawn.

I feel both separate and inseparable from my body

it has not often felt safe to exist in my body, in this culture

what does it even mean to have a body?

we don’t want to be defined by our bodies

limited or judged by our bodies

but we find community and belonging and pleasure in our bodies

even if those are only found in disability pride events like ours today.

It's easy for me to dwell in the challenges of having a body

of being disabled physically, socially, and politically

of feeling chronic pain as sharp and intense as the shame

I learned to have around my body

for most of my life I spent all my energy trying to fix myself

going to the gym, going to therapy, seeing specialist doctors

because I believed my body was broken.

I’d drink and I’d binge, I’d cut and I’d cry

I’d run and lift and crunch and starve to shrink my body as much as I could

I’d mask and push myself into social situations that made my body feel sick

I stayed in emotionally abusive relationships

I allowed loved ones to ridicule and denigrate my body

until I had nothing left to give.

I tried to overdose

to end this body

because I realized it was impossible to fix my body.

Whenever I tell a story like this, folks always say

“you’re so brave to share that”

let's make it so we don’t need to be brave to share our stories

our truths

and I believe we make our culture a safe place to have a body

through events like ours today

through the people we meet, the ideas we share

when we can own up to our mistakes

in using ableist language or assumptions

as we all continue to learn how to better support each other as a community.

As we do this, I challenge you to be aware of your body.

rather than ignoring the aches and pains, the discomfort or anxiety

or what you imagine others are perceiving about your body

rather than avoiding those thoughts and impressions,

pushing them deep down, numbing them, or invalidating them

just sit with them, see them

feel them in your body in whatever way feels safe to you.

And thank them

thank these achy, painful, shameful, confusing body parts

thank the ones that have been deemed broken, sick, or unwanted

thank them because they are your body parts 

and your body has carried you through this perilous life

it has loved you and protected you in a million unconscious ways

despite how you’ve hated it or wished for it to be different.

So thank you, body. 

for loving and protecting me before I knew how to love and protect myself.