Artists - Kristen Duke and Kasha Fay
This poem was inspired by the kidnapping of Jaycee Lee Dugard. She was kidnapped at age 11 and was held captive for eighteen years. She was raped several times and had two kids before the age of 18.
Stolen
I cannot hear the voices that
you are so desperate for me
to hear- there are no angels.
I cannot see the purpose of
my imprisonment. I cannot
understand why you took me
from my mother. I can only
feel my last touch of freedom,
the pinecone I grabbed before
I was paralyzed and dragged
into the monster’s car. A stolen
life. Everything is silent and still.
The sounds begin to haunt me. The squeaky pull out couch bed, where you robbed me of my virginity. The rattle of the lock on the door, I would dread hearing your footsteps nearing to unlock my safety. These handcuffs are rubbing my wrists raw.
They are fuzzy but it doesn’t help. I cannot ask for you to remove them. I cannot ask for a toothbrush or toilet. I cannot ask for freedom, to be returned. It makes me sick that you are forcing me to live in the place where you rape me. I am fourteen when I deliver my first baby. I am scared to have this baby in a trailer instead of a hospital. Angel is beautiful and the only blessing from this nightmare. She keeps me company and I would do anything to protect her. I wonder if my mother feels the same way
about me. Does she remember me?
It has been so long since I’ve seen
her. Is she looking for me? When
I am seventeen he says that God
has cured him of his sexual problem
and he will never touch me again.
I want to believe him. I want it all
to stop. I have this full feeling in
my belly and I know that I am
pregnant again. I am allowed outside
after Starlite is born. My girls and
I enjoy walking outside to pet the cats.
They remind me of home. I miss my
cat, Monkey that my step-father
brought home when I was young.
I am still alive. There is still hope.
I must survive and endure. I must
protect my daughters. I see the moon
and the moon sees me. Looking up at
the full moon, I know my mom is
looking at the same moon. I will see
her again one day. I hope she accepts
me and my family.
This poem was inspired by the kidnapping of Jaycee Lee Dugard. She was kidnapped at age 11 and was held captive for eighteen years. She was raped several times and had two kids before the age of 18.
Stolen
I cannot hear the voices that
you are so desperate for me
to hear- there are no angels.
I cannot see the purpose of
my imprisonment. I cannot
understand why you took me
from my mother. I can only
feel my last touch of freedom,
the pinecone I grabbed before
I was paralyzed and dragged
into the monster’s car. A stolen
life. Everything is silent and still.
The sounds begin to haunt me. The squeaky pull out couch bed, where you robbed me of my virginity. The rattle of the lock on the door, I would dread hearing your footsteps nearing to unlock my safety. These handcuffs are rubbing my wrists raw.
They are fuzzy but it doesn’t help. I cannot ask for you to remove them. I cannot ask for a toothbrush or toilet. I cannot ask for freedom, to be returned. It makes me sick that you are forcing me to live in the place where you rape me. I am fourteen when I deliver my first baby. I am scared to have this baby in a trailer instead of a hospital. Angel is beautiful and the only blessing from this nightmare. She keeps me company and I would do anything to protect her. I wonder if my mother feels the same way
about me. Does she remember me?
It has been so long since I’ve seen
her. Is she looking for me? When
I am seventeen he says that God
has cured him of his sexual problem
and he will never touch me again.
I want to believe him. I want it all
to stop. I have this full feeling in
my belly and I know that I am
pregnant again. I am allowed outside
after Starlite is born. My girls and
I enjoy walking outside to pet the cats.
They remind me of home. I miss my
cat, Monkey that my step-father
brought home when I was young.
I am still alive. There is still hope.
I must survive and endure. I must
protect my daughters. I see the moon
and the moon sees me. Looking up at
the full moon, I know my mom is
looking at the same moon. I will see
her again one day. I hope she accepts
me and my family.
Kristin Duke
Mixed Media
Measures approx. 16" high x 12" wide x 14" deep.
Kasha Fahy
Mixed Media on canvas
24" x 18"
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