Survivor/Storyteller
To write around the things I cannot speak.
To frame the house of my humanity.
To put the roof back on my soul.
Outrage usually comes with violent action. I feel my flailing weak word arms are limply directed at a cannibalistic giant. Meanwhile hot tears of outrage stream down my sunken cheeks. No, it surely is not enough. But word arms is all I’ve got to flail today.
I wonder if anyone can hear?
If all ears are clogged with cacophony.
I wonder if anyone can see?
If all eyes are dim – all sight silenced with praise.
I wonder if anyone can speak?
If all lips are licked with lies.
Be suspicious when someone of greater power assigns blame to someone of lesser power.
I will tell him in time, in bite-size packages about abuse, vulnerability, brokenness, and power. A powerful person himself, he must learn to wield his power well.
What we fear and what we should fear are often two very different things.
I was nervous to meet you. Nervous not to be enough. I was afraid to be, to bring my body not just my soul to you. And there you were – althogther lovely and smashing.
I confess that find the truth about sexual offenders callously cold, hard, and unspeakably complex.
Once you can point to a wrongdoer, you become justified in doing anything you like, however dishonest, however cruel, however evil!”
– Thomas Merton
Women, who were voiceless “property,” fought for the right to have property and a voice.
