The damsel in distress may not always want to be saved
The violins may not always mean romance
The chorus of angels may not mean the rapture has begun
So make no assumptions about those things
Make no assumptions about the scars running along her wrists,
Or the mascara stains down her cheeks,
Or the indent from an old ring worn for years and years.
Those things mean nothing
Unless they are spoken of otherwise
So when the fire starts
And the music plays
And the house burns down
And the tears fall
And the lives are lost
And the battle is won --
Why should there be judgements made?
Who has the right to speak for those who cannot themselves?
Who turns those moments to memories,
The thoughts to ideas,
The spark to flames,
The letters to words --
Who can be held responsible for those?
It is not the ones who are presumed;
It is not those with power --
It is those without.
It is the mothers, sons, and daughters
It is the sun, stars and moon
It is the child with an empty stomach
The home with no roof
The man with no voice
The woman with no sight
The god with no power
It is you
It is me
It is us