My first poem was a letter to God, asking Her to save me. Aged 14 with a pen and paper. I willed my words to come alive. Not knowing what the outcome would be, but I was sure I was tired. Fed up. There was no way I would return to this. So I dared God. I dared my creator to fail me. I gave Her a deadline and dared Her not to meet it. Aged 14 with a pen and a paper I already knew that monsters didn’t hide under the bed. They didn’t sneak up on you in dark alleys. They were braver than that. They sat next to you, gave you bruises, told you that you were useless and took away pieces of you slowly.
Aged 14 and I told God She was going to have to get me, take me away. I did not realise the power of my words. I’d been told so many times not to question God, but this time She would
have to answer. As I wrote down lines with black ink, I swore this time She would prove herself. It wasn’t going to be easy this time. I wasn’t settling for an unanswered prayer, momentary happiness, hell wrapped with a ribbon.
In my letter to God, I dared her to test me. Dear God, you have until April to save me, I didn’t know the outcome but either way, I wouldn’t be there. Then my father arrived, like a knight. My saviour. My Hero.
April 29th, Heathrow Airport, holding my father’s hand. One battle ended.
Now tell me. Is the universe listening?
Inspire. Motivate. Empower.