To The Dogs

I waited so long to write these poems
because the hurt in me was still a dog
chained up years ago and told to sit.
What they don’t tell you about hurt like this,
the kind that tames you when you’re young,
Is that even when you’re unleashed,
you spend years whimpering on the floor at the ghost of someone’s feet.
You have to relearn how to walk,
how to smile without hope of getting a treat,
how to recognize the poison in the bones they threw you,
and the scraps of freedom
from their hands
were nothing more than your own marrow
boiled down to nothing.
So these words are the calling out to every dog
who flinch when strangers call out
good girl
and good boy,
who feel the choke of a collar around their neck
even when they’re lying undressed on their own,
breathing freedom into their own clawed paws.
These words are the dog tags we left behind,
the dead names,
the empty houses, and the streets we’ll never walk again.
These words are for the dogs
of hurt
and neglect.
Who turn their snouts towards every kind hand,
and hope, hope, hope.
With all their furry little hearts,
that these hands
will never expect them to lie down at their feet.
We are free and feral,
and good,
my god,
we are so good.

By Cecilie K.

Biography:

Cecilie K. Is a 26 year old Norwegian, lives in London on her 5th year. She murders tomato plants, but is good at growing strawberries. She has sugar packets everywhere, it’s weird. Cecilie is currently working on multiple publishing projects, first of which will be published late November 2015. She likes to use a lot of colorful imagery in her writing, mixing confessional poetry with urban fantasy elements. She loves Leonard Cohen with a passion and spends a lot of time clutching her chest and being in awe of some of her favourite poets on tumblr. Find more at Ceciliewriteswords.tumblr.com