Although familiar, my face never adorned a poster taped to a lamp post or a shop window. Nobody looked for me. Forgotten long ago – my absence did not leave a hole in the World. Hands had been washed of me. My foot prints disturbed by the wind.

Violence my only human contact. The greatest care taken to remove me. Nobody looked for me. Dirt to dirt. I have left my mark in the mud-cocooned by the dark. The naked trees – silent witnesses to my features long since disappeared.

Bare bones speak my truth. They announce who I am and whisper the long list of traumas I endured before I stopped fighting back. Like photos in an album- my story is etched on me. Nobody looked for me. Can you see me now?

Do not forget us. We are out here waiting to be found.

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Amanda Bird

Amanda has always thought of herself as an armchair traveller, and since early childhood books and stories have provided the portal to other worlds. Her love of reading sparked a passion for writing and she has been writing stories since... a very long time ago! She now lives in Hove, and the view allows space for her imagination to roam.

Latest posts by Amanda Bird (see all)

• N7 - 27/07/16
• Doesn’t Dance Well With Others - 26/03/16
• Hunting High and Low - 15/02/16
• A Point of View - 09/02/16
• The Naked Truth - 04/02/16