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Esther Sorkpor is a physiotherapy student, culture writer and spoken word artist. She is an enthusiast of the arts and an avid contributor to gender and sexuality conversations. For her campaign on #16DaysofActivism, she writes “No More.”

No More

Here he comes through the door with a temper

the flickering before an explosion 

He is the craftsman 

as knots weave away in my insides

an ulcer left to rot

I could tell it was one of those nights

He became a runaway train without breaks

Leaving track marks on my body

In the asylum I grew up in 

When he ran out of steam

I lived

to die another day

I’m here

In the wake of another smoky bitter encounter

I ask myself in the dark when this would end

Despair is wrapped around me as I wait for dawn

—a snapshot—

Dawn came when I snapped 

and gave myself a shot

and said 

no more

No longer will I be a clanging cymbal 

the beating and kicking of drums 

a puppet in his production

No more 

will he make me whimper sounds of agony

hit after hit

and watch me squirm in fear

like an earthworm sprinkled with salt

No more

I was made for more

I am strong

Yet delicate and soft

I am my knight 

my salvation

my song

I see the light that I am

My glory shines 

like the halo on a sunny day 

I raise my shoulders high 

I dare look him in the eye

And I think, No More