I see her averting eyes
on a busy street,
at a shopping mall,
at a grocery store
She is everywhere
Clones of life interrupted
Compressed into the mechanics
of just living
She is beautiful, striking
though reserved, timid;
always adjusting the buttons on her blouse,
clutching tightly to her purse,
keeping her arms tight, rigid,
wrapped to her body
I have learned to engage her
many times over, by complimenting her smile
which doesn't exist,
or those starbright eyes
which keep at bay the tears
from puddling at her feet
She's the woman child I know too well
Her familiarity is haunting
She's the woman I want to have a glass of wine with,
celebrate her successes with a shopping spree,
or just hold her in a tight embrace
Certainly not in a sexual way,
but as a disarming kindness
from one who has gathered her lost innocence,
the scattered remnants of worth
and packaged it neatly
into compartments of empathy, compassion, and wisdom
One who bonds an extended hand with warmth,
infusing the connection with trust
One who wears her pearls of grace with courage,
and brushes life's defilement
from her pristine suit of victory
I have learned to listen with intention,
without crying back at her,
as I did in my emotional darkness
Rape is a word she'll reveal in a whisper
when confidence is earned
She knows too well leering ears
startle at her dark and dastardly secrets
Gasps become silent assumptions
I thought it was just a personal prefernce,
but I have learned a great deal
She doesn't want pity
She doesn't want to be told 'give it time,
things will be alright'-
or you totally understand
After all, how could you,
this is her story
Rape isn't always cloaked in a mask,
or a knife wielding stranger lurking in a dark alley
She just wants to talk
She wants to suffocate the nightmares,
the eyes wide open fear
She wants to feel the sunshine in a beautiful and warming way
She wants to hold her head high with grace
and look you straight in the eyes
She wants to walk slowly past the window shops,
gaze at her feminine silhouette
without feeling ugly
She wants to loosen the guarded clutch on her purse
A grip so tight, her knuckles turn white
defying any attempt to rob her of her personal belongings again
Dignity, power, and grace
Yes, I see her everywhere
Me, that is
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