used today to claim a high moral ground
in a stacked contest for legitimacy.
Swept away by supremacy’s
distracting demand for attention.
Today more than 69 will be raped or beaten
their defiled bodies not recognised
as actually existing, resisting their right to safety and protection
for woman is not yet human enough
nor children for the powers to defend
that body politic with all its faculties. No broken child,
survivor, take the law into your own hands. They were wrong.
They never paid for what they took from you, it has no price,
its value cannot be counted in currency. The theft is reduced to
code printed in columns in piles of legal papers and expensive processes
hidden in wooden rooms in a language that is foreign to you, to your body
whose tears turn the river of you into salt. You sent your frail army to reclaim,
but not even an ocean of their blood can regain your shimmering potential.
It is gone. You have to grow it again.
Make this day a monument to violation, forget blind
justice, make your own home built beautiful
with high ceilings and huge windows and stand,
the water drying on your new cleansed body,
the light streaming in as you consider your wardrobe of options
to suit yourself for your daily victory over your stolen history.
Don’t let them steal your future too.