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Put it all behind you, Brody said, but she Couldn’t, it remained Like a stain seeping into The cloth of her being. Brody’d not been ***** Or left to die or left with The big question: why? She needed to be outside Breathing fresh air, on her Balcony, not out in the street Or park awaiting another Attacker, some one about To creep up on her and place A smelly hand over mouth And nose. Move on, Brody Said, things happen, that’s How it goes. She moves only From room to room, from inside To outside the balcony, to take In the sun, moon, or stars, feel The air, the breeze, smell flowers, See trees. **** was more than *** without permission, more Than hurt or contusions like Bruised fruit, more than deep Humiliation, it was loss of her Freedom, of choice, of dignity, The breaking in and up and out And leaving the fragility behind, To bring her nightmares haunting To nerves and mind. Brody had His doubts; wondered if she’d Fought hard enough, screamed Loud or whimpered. Or was she Just up for it, he thought maybe, But never said, just the look he Gave, the sign in eyes, the tone Of voice, the whole language of Body, she thought on judging Brody. For all his words and Suggestions, Brody never slept With her after that, he slept with Some other and she with the cat.
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Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 5:40 AM UTC
WHAT WAS SAID.
Put it all behind you, Brody said, but she Couldn’t, it remained Like a stain seeping into The cloth of her being. Brody’d not been ***** Or left to die or left with The big question: why? She needed to be outside Breathing fresh air, on her Balcony, not out in the street Or park awaiting another Attacker, some one about To creep up on her and place A smelly hand over mouth And nose. Move on, Brody Said, things happen, that’s How it goes. She moves only From room to room, from inside To outside the balcony, to take In the sun, moon, or stars, feel The air, the breeze, smell flowers, See trees. **** was more than *** without permission, more Than hurt or contusions like Bruised fruit, more than deep Humiliation, it was loss of her Freedom, of choice, of dignity, The breaking in and up and out And leaving the fragility behind, To bring her nightmares haunting To nerves and mind. Brody had His doubts; wondered if she’d Fought hard enough, screamed Loud or whimpered. Or was she Just up for it, he thought maybe, But never said, just the look he Gave, the sign in eyes, the tone Of voice, the whole language of Body, she thought on judging Brody. For all his words and Suggestions, Brody never slept With her after that, he slept with Some other and she with the cat.
2010 POEM. A poem about rape survivor. I think this is a despicable crime.
terry-collett
Written by
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 5:40 AM UTC
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