I’m going travelling and I want you to come with me. This is the beginning.
When I was eleven years old I wrote bitch on my stomach in Black Permanent Marker
I realised my mistake
As soon as I was done.
I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed
Body blotchy
Sore
Pink
But it was,
Too late
Too, too late
So
I had to walk around
Quietly
But not
With a faded stain
Imprinted on my body
A grey idea
Silent
Almost
Seeping into my skin
As a reminder
Of what
I was yet
To understand
Stand
I stand here
Again
And I feel sick.
Head, fuzzy
Heart, raw
A wobbling
Echoing through my body
Because
It happened
So early and so quickly
And the floor turned wet
And deep
And I was drowning
Help.
Help me.
I need to
Leave
And those words
Harsh stabs
Stab
Into me
Again
And again
And again
Bitch
And I feel them
Bitch
From, ago
Bitch
They sting
And feel so real
The letters
Look
Sound
Strange
But real
So, I run
I keep running
I’ve been running
For so long
I’m so
Tired
Will I ever stop?
We acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the Traditional Custodians of the land on which Woroni, Woroni Radio and Woroni TV are created, edited, published, printed and distributed. We pay our respects to Elders past and present. We acknowledge that the name Woroni was taken from the Wadi Wadi Nation without permission, and we are striving to do better for future reconciliation.