The Balance – A Poem By Megan Falley

Hey Rockstars,

One of my favorite word wranglers, Megan Falley, could use our help!

I’ve mentioned Megan’s first book – After the Witch Hunt – here before.

Described: “As if she discovered a small army of silenced women captive in her pen, Megan Falley releases them in the spilled ink…”

YES – mind-blowing writing, beautiful wisdom & laser sharp perspective. The book is brilliant.

This request is both selfish & selfless. Selfish because I would love to read another book by her ASAP & selfless because I know how many girls & women would benefit from another book by her.

So, how can we help her get another book out into the universe?

She is participating in Write Bloody‘s annual writing contest, there are a couple dozen incredible finalists & she is one of them! Besides sending in a manuscript, the authors must post a video & hustle for a large amount of “likes” on YouTube for it. All by May 15th!

You can watch the video & read the poem below but to help her you must LIKE the video! If you are on your desktop, if you hover your mouse over the video while it’s playing there should be a little thumbs up icon in the top right corner, click it! Or you can CLICK HERE & click the LIKE button!

If you dig it, spread it around!

She captions the poem below: For anyone who is or has been a victim or survivor of abuse, it’s not your fault. And I am listening to you, always.

Oh how I can relate to it. Thank you for speaking your truth, Megan, we’re rooting for you!

(Follow this link & click like!)

The Balance
after Rachel McKibbens

There were days when it looked like love,
especially if you turned down the volume.
But even if you didn’t.

Bus rides asleep on each other’s
shoulders, sharing an earbud
plugged into a song
as if sharing a secret.

Afternoons where we stayed in
our pajamas and played video games
after he bought us twin bodega sandwiches
and remembered mine without the meat.

And while I look back
on the memories with equal, if not more
repulsion, I know that I wasn’t an idiot
to stay. That my heart invented
its own verb which meant To Love
The Dog Who Licks The Scar It Gave You.

On a dirty bar couch on Valentine’s Day
he said I would fight with you every morning
if it meant I could kiss you at night
and at the time
it didn’t sound like the Codependent National Anthem
or a vending machine where you put in fury
and get out passion

or even like the things I read now
in pamphlets—the ones I thrust upon other women
like my own righteous gospel—

it sounded like the sweetest thing
he’d ever said to me. A poem
I could fold real small and carry
around in my locket, not noticing, for months
how it also kind of

Megan Falley

Connect with Megan:
:: Website :: Tumblr :: Twitter ::
(poem/video used with permission)

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