Category Archives: Gallery

“Pegasus the Horse” by Molly Boeder Harris

Pegasus tattoo

Pegasus the Horse,
   flesh, tendon and unbridled velocity
   pulsing, beating heart
   respiration sounding the storm,
   like wind,
   like the feeling of having overcome,
   having been able to outrun,
   cardiac catharsis churns out
   sweat on a wet coat
   smooth and shiny
   sinewy shadows of muscular strength
   running, leaping, in spontaneous stride
   rhythm unbroken,
   uninhibited coordination, innate and ongoing
   tearing up the ground beneath for the simple purpose
   one destination,
   four legs, one articulate tail, crushing but humble weight,
   and a mane that bends with the air we breathe
   the physiology of resilience.
Pegasus the Bird of Prey,
   soaring, feather power circling upwards
   hollow bones borne of an uncluttered mind
   cumulative practice
   effortless manipulation of an energetic current
   an ease that comes with capturing universal abundance,
   the atmosphere’s treasures
   responsive to weather, pressure, heat and clouds,
   moving up and moving down
   water repellant, wind empowered,
   visions of the future, past, present
   and internal sight
   movement requiring the specificity of the here and now,
   touching down and reaching in
   depth perception, far sightedness and precision
   surrender and stability,
   relying solely on the shape it was given,
   the arc in the sky
   nature makes no mistakes.
Pegasus My Flesh,
   colors bleed like the Uruguayan sunset
   pink, turquoise, orange, yellow, purple into blue
   colors to brighten my view
   fierce and ready to protect,
   this flesh taken back, this wound taken back
   catalyzed by my primitive brain un-thwarted
   sealed and seared into skin
   my body reclaimed with needles and sweat and color and tears
   an ink to pull out the poison
   the kind eyes and clear soul of an artist that paints our capacity to
   and a pre-destined song assumes new meaning within this space,
   the vastness of this pain, and the clearness of this purpose
   a prayer mobilized through sensation,
   now charging ahead with thick-thighed legs
   draws the line between all that is possible
   and all that I once feared
   traces a form, that is at once bird and beast and the soul unbound
   erases distance, cultivates the interconnection of the body
   and the mind
   and the infinite space inside.
Pegasus to mark the ending,
   hooves leaving trampled memories
   like ashes
   returning to the Earth
   triggers and sensations refer no longer
   to my Breaking,
   but rather
   to my Becoming
   conflicted identity formerly conflated with an indescribable sorrow,
   held tenderly,
   at last,
   reveals beneath its own tension and pulling,
   a flexibly firm knowing
   full of the moment’s
   unquenchable longing
   burning, scabbing, healing
   resting, attending, and grieving,
   some kind of wonderful will be revealed.
Pegasus to mark the beginning,
   unfolding, liberating, mastery and breath
   weighty and thunderous
   and patiently quiet,
   like beams of light traveling back from space
   to whisper cosmic wisdom, and soften the path ahead
   new wings and exponential speed
   my momentum unleashed
   counter-balanced by a dream to remember this slowly
   memories and images settle and digest
   a cycle turning towards complete
   the clear sensing eyes of an animal untamed
   the clear seeing heart of an animal untamed
   my return, marked forever by each breath I take
   the ribcage of holding,
   of self-protection,
   patterned by this Story,
   still so much unfolding, still so much untold,
   necessarily, still moving
   drawing in, expanding out,
   soaring, galloping
   and once again,

Molly Boeder Harris is the Founder of The Breathe Network, a non-profit organization that connects survivors of sexual violence to holistic healing arts practitioners who provide trauma-informed, sliding-scale, mind-body-spirit oriented treatments to support embodied healing. Learn more at



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“My Closet” -Colleen

Closet With My Abuser

Closet With My Abuser

Closet After I Left

Closet After I Left

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“Slowly You Will Sink Into the Depths of My Memory” by Molly Boeder Harris

I am near the ocean now, I reluctantly step inside.
I have dreamt of water so many times.
Whales, orcas, and dolphins swimming deep—I enter their world.
Sometimes a guest, sometimes a target, sometimes I am one of them.

The water rises as I breathe shallow. The tide will pull me deep
if I don’t catch this coming wave right.
I should have known better than to explore this unpredictable, unforgivable, and vast ocean.
How can I escape? Will I drown all by myself?

Flashback: I offer him my soul if he will spare my life.
I bargain with the shadows of men in nightmares daily.
I make promises and search for an escape, but my body is not my own,
and now my body is on its own.
My spirit seeks refuge and weeps helplessly high in sympathetic trees.
I call out loud and hear my voice echo as it disappears into the vast blue open sky.

I can sense this man has no heart.

But my life will be spared by a breeze through the trees.

A fawn splinters a stick.
An angel exhales.
And he is gone.

I lay stunned and fragmented.
Tears and cells distorted on the forest floor.
My most sacred spaces mixed with dirt, and bugs, and blood, and bent grass.

I have to run, I have to escape.
I do not dare look back.
I gather what is left and leave most everything behind.

Inside there is a shallow nothingness, like the pool in early fall—dying leaves, hollow ground—memories of another life.
I begin to remember a future I will never feel.

How do you bring yourself back inside yourself?
What magic will make this inner space safe?

I attempt to make sense.
I try to use words, but 2 languages are not nearly enough.
I make art and sing songs. I try to create. I try to believe.

I try to be here now…
and still…
I flow with the current, too tired to resist.
Acceptance is my survival, and I choose to let go.

I surrender and soften into the dark ocean.
Deep water reflects my swirling brain and pulls on my leg with insatiable sadness.
It holds dreams and danger and, it decides when.

Floating in salty liquid, my fear seeps to the surface of my skin.
I ask the Atlantic the question that I know I must not ask:
Why me? Why me? Why me?

A wave surges, and I expand, stretch my whole self out across the crest…

Coughing in shallow water, sandy rocks slide beneath my flesh.
My body bobs and bends gently with the rising tide.
I breathe deeply into a new life and wait…

Hours pass before the sea begins to settle, and I can see clearly.
A smooth fin sends a ripple of circles across a still surface, and dissolves back
into the void without a trace.
A secret kept, a mystery too profound for our minds to contain.

Acceptance is my survival, and I choose to let it go.

Molly Boeder Harris is the Founder of The Breathe Network, a non-profit organization that connects survivors of sexual violence to holistic healing arts practitioners who provide trauma-informed, sliding-scale, mind-body-spirit oriented treatments to support embodied healing. Learn more at

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“Watercolor Figure” by Alex, Boston

photo 3

“About three years ago I started painting as part of my own journey to heal.

I find with each swish, stroke, and swirl of my brush I release tension onto the page. I am able to communicate feelings and thoughts I otherwise struggle to put into words, using color and shape as my medium. The violent/nonviolent transfer of energy onto a canvas is both cathartic and exhilarating. The process forced me to trust my instincts and lean into my fears and uncertainties.

Recently I worked on a series of nudes. As a survivor, I understand how our bodies can become foreign. You can feel trapped within your own form and lose appreciation for all of the the beautiful things they do. Bodies are not only defined by shape and texture, but all of the colors that make us up. By filling in with watercolor I was able to show the various colors and the interactions they have. We are all colorful and complex and unique.

Let’s celebrate our bodies. And each other. And you.”

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“Resilience” – Molly, 23, Massachusetts


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October 14, 2013 · 1:44 am

“The Kind With Sound” by Claire Aviles

I feel sorry for you. 
The room is dark and
she can’t see his smirk,
but she can feel it.

His breath quickens. It’s hot
against her neck.
Raspy. Desperate.

Let me go.

The bed frame knocks against the wall,
drowning out her voice.
Please don’t.

Please. Thin as tissue paper.
He ignores her pleading and
pins her arms firmly against her side.

She whimpers as he breaks her, then
falls silent and listens
to his panting,
to the frantic pounding in her ears,
to the bed frame, knocking against the wall.

She presses her forearms against his chest,
slides out from underneath his weight,
and falls to the floor.

Going somewhere?
She can hear his smirk again.
She tries to run, but her legs
have new weight. She’s frozen.
I’m not done with you yet.

The worst kind of flashback
is the kind with sound.

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