Take Back the Night
An anthem for survivors. A reclamation of self. A cry for better. (Content Warning)
I’m a survivor.
My life has been filled with violence. I will never be able to erase that.
I have lived through neglect, childhood sexual abuse and assault, intimate partner violence, and I’m a secondary/vicarious survivor, too.
I have survived. That means I can empower myself. I can use my voice. I can scream, WE MUST DO BETTER.
In a time in which the Rape Academy and the Epstein Files are ongoing (and they should be) topics of conversation, I live constantly in the intersection of so many feelings.
I feel deep compassion for all my fellow survivors and myself for the constant re-triggering of experiences we can never fully forget.
I feel the rage, sorrow, disgust, fear, and tangled masses of emotions that do not have words.
I feel heartbroken for the child I once was that endured the unspeakable for years.
I jumped headfirst into a life that was ill equipped to handle the bigness of my dreams. I’ve been proud to identify as a survivor, to stand with other people who are so strong, who have faced so much, and who continue forward with compassion despite the horrors that we have faced.
But I remember the days of feeling I would always be a victim, that there was no other life for me than pain. I ache for those parts of me who never thought I’d really know love, peace, or joy. I look at so many of the people in my family, and in the world, who still feel they are unworthy. I want to bring them hope.
There are some things that we alone experience, because no one else lived in our body and endured what we endured, or felt what we felt. But we share commonalities, overlapping themes, and similar experiences. And violence impacts us all—whether directly, or touched by a ripple of the profound sorrows experienced by others, near or far.
When one of us is harmed, we are all harmed. My wish, whether it is achieved in my lifetime or not, is for there to be peaceful harmony amongst all living beings of this beautiful planet we share.
I am here to inspire others into radical self-love and fully embodied living so that all may live in that love and peace.
And so below, I’d like to share a poem I wrote inspired by the invitation to speak at a Take Back the Night event. This is in honor of my continued journey of self-reclamation, my hope being that each of you will see your power, too.
I love you.
— Safrianna
This audio is of me speaking off the cuff, followed by the full poem entitled Take Back the Night. Listen or read on!
I wanted to share my experience of having the honor of speaking at Take Back the Night, and also to read you my poem, and share with you my poem.
I’m contemplating adding this to A Woman’s Work — no surprise. What is now the second edition, I’m contemplating making a third edition, because it just feels like there are so many more layers of violence to peel back that I mentioned, unfortunately, in A Woman’s Work. I mean, fortunate that I gave voice to it, but unfortunate that it’s ever happened — but there have been so many more instances of sexual violence that have come to the forefront since I released the second edition. And it feels like it might be a worthy endeavor to go back and express even more.
So I got to speak on a recent Thursday evening at a Take Back the Night event. And it was such a privilege and honor to have the ability to use my voice, to lift up my voice at this point in time, and to stand with fellow survivors, to share just glimmers of my story.
The poem I’m going to share was really written to empower, to call people back from the depths of thinking this is all they have to look forward to.
This poem is a reclamation. It’s an invitation to really be in the incredible depths of who we are — outside of the narrative of generational violence, outside of the impact of generational violence — with an opportunity to live free and be boldly who we are. And so I really wrote this poem to inspire others into radical self-love and fully embodied living.
I believe that we can do better together.
I believe that when we lift our voices and share our stories, we open opportunities for liberation, and we can have such beautiful lives if we can escape the loop of ongoing harm.
This poem is an anthem to survivors. It is a reclamation of self. It is a cry for better, and I am just honored to have the opportunity to share it here with you.
Take Back the Night
I was born out of the abyss of ancient abuses—
Called in on a wish from my ancestors.
Summoned as a cycle breaker—
She who shall cast off the mantle of
Victimhood.
Let her voice be unshackled.
Before me—Generations of daughters, sons,
Mothers, fathers, grands, many great—
Lives all steeped in stories of Suffering.
I soaked up the pain of my parents,
Martyred myself on the altar of perverse adults,
All to try to save my siblings. Yet—
No protection was afforded a single one of us in this
Bloodline.
Still—Bottled up my own tragedies,
Tucked them neatly behind another smile,
Praying someone else might be spared.
At night, monsters crept into my cradle,
Defiled any sense I had of salvation,
Breaking my boundaries like brittle sticks
Over their big knees—the cover of
Night belonged to them, a weapon wielded
Without remorse.
I swallowed the sensations of violation—
Yearned for the Heavens,
Cast my consciousness to the
Cosmos where untold wonders waited.
Despairing, I dreamed of safety.
Desperately, I wished for peace.
In the day, I penned parables of still growing girls
With super powers and psychic abilities,
Liberating themselves, not with a grin, but a
Gun—equipped with space lasers capable of
Slicing through the dangers my
Earthly-Self could not escape.
Wishing it was as easy as
A few keystrokes to cut through the
Torture of invisibility.
Sprawling space operas were where I sought
Solace—daydreaming about a life that seemed
Farther than a galaxy far, far away.
I plummeted into a pattern of self-sacrifice,
Believing myself a perpetual victim—
My fate as a stepping stone for those
Starving for control; believing my spine
Strong enough to be a stairway to someone else's
Sickest fantasies,
Yet not strong enough to stand up for myself.
Be a good girl, they said, Bend, don't break.
I listened.
There, against the swirl of sinful tales
Whispered on poisoned tongues,
I heard the distant call of a great, great,
grandmother, reaching for me through time.
She has held the memories of misery,
Watched the trauma loop like chords around
Wrists passed from hand to hand across generations—
all while weeping, praying,
Let it end with someone.
This grandmother offered me a thread,
A chance, a wish for liberation and healing,
Wordlessly given from her body to mine,
Transferred womb to womb until the
Black hole collapse of our family could
Continue no more. I bore through,
Leaper through space and time,
Here to weave a new tapestry
Crafted with the wisdom of ancients.
I am sorting through fact and fiction, now—
Finding some things Soul-aligned,
Written into my very blueprint.
Others, lies stored within me for safekeeping,
Programs meant to puppeteer through fear—
Profiting off my shame and silence.
No more.
I was the wish granted.
I am the dream being.
I remember who I am—
Not a fallen star, but an ever expanding Universe,
My breast the seat of endless solar systems,
Countless constellations telling truth—
Surging through every cell.
The way begins within, rippling out.
I am a supernova—the power they convinced me to fear.
I take back the night sky they once took from me,
The darkness they once made terrifying.
I unleash my magic, releasing these tales of suffering—
Collapse these Twisted timelines with the
Mighty call of my unbound throat.
I see us—you—myself—each a
Diamond in the midnight sky—illuminating
Falsehoods, collapsing the systems that
Aim to control.
Each of us a mirror, a reflection.
As one suffers, So do all.
But as one finds joy, love, soul, so too, do we all.
When twilight dances, and the womb waters of
Ancient mothers are reclaimed for each child of the
Earth—
The soul of humanity will rise as one in honoring each
Other enough to end the dynasty of
Dominance, torture, and war—
Enough to end the cascade of
Violence that has ripped through our history—
Enough to unfold into love, again and again.
We are the dream being.
We are the wish granted.
— Safrianna Lughna
Written April 2026
If this poem stirred something in you, let it. That stirring is your own wisdom rising to meet you.
We are all, in some way, sorting through fact and fiction — finding what is soul-aligned and releasing what was never ours to carry. The loop of generational violence, of silence, of bending so others won’t break — it can end. It has to end. And it ends with us, one voice at a time.
I’d love to hear from you.
What landed for you in this poem?
What are you reclaiming?
Drop a comment below and let your voice be part of this conversation because when we share our stories, we open doors to liberation for each other.
Looking for Support?
If something here is calling you toward deeper work — toward using your voice, liberating yourself from the loops that have held you, and stepping into the fullness of who you are — I’m here for that. I offer a variety of programs and one-time services to support your journey of self-reclamation and fully embodied living.
Schedule a free 15-minute chat to explore what might be the right fit at tidycal.com/safrianna/15-min-prof, or visit Safrianna.com to learn more.
