What I Don’t Say to the Girl With the Scars on Her Arms When I Give Her a Blank Book
Write your bones out from under the bed.
Write the goblin chant.
Write yourself falling
through darkness.
Listen. You will hear doors.
You will hide.
There are so many ways
to hide.
Write the smile guarding your eyes.
Open one door
if you can. Don’t stop
what comes. You can cut,
if you need to, later. For now, this
is your out. Write
the leap and the snarl. Write the edge
of the voice in your hand.
No one need see
what you hurl at the page.
You can kill it, if you like,
once you’ve brought it to light.
Jennifer L Freed is the author of When Light Shifts, a finalist for the Sheila Margaret Motton Book Prize.
This poem was originally published by The Connecticut Review.
You can learn more about her work at
Such an amazing poem. The language is direct and clear and fresh: no wonder it was chosen as the winner of the Summer Poetry Contest. I think our readers would love a little bit of background about what inspired Ms. Freed to write it!
Thanks Eric I think the inspiration is right there in the title: so much you cannot say to a young person who is in pain but resists your input, your interest, your care. I think it’s not uncommon for therapists to suggest writing or art as a way to sort through one’s own thoughts, especially in a time of crisis. So that thread came in, too. The form of self harm for this “girl with… Read more »