raw reality, a fist slamming into
my temple forces me awake.
sleep, a drug of solace pulls me out
of the nightmare into the fortress of
my mind. stable condition. stable. condition.
a massacre’s sole survivor; on the battle front of
her basement. her children slaughtered before
bloodshot eyes. what greater torture is this? prostrate a
preference over this gory reference. an estranged
husband’s unwelcomed presence robbing you of
peace…and mind. forcing entry into spaces too small.
stable condition a misnomer of words. the terms
of your condition uninvented verbs. survivor.
who survives witnessing the slaughter of
their children? there is great confusion between
breathing and living. between being and
stable. between here and there. standing and rising.
this a new frontier no mother should be made to
explore. can we speak now of rights and
humanity? of women and words? how paper is
no protection in a world where submission and
right standing still give license to brutality and
demanding hands that harm and pointing fingers
that kill. can we speak now of truth and
citizenship? of full participation without manipulation? to
be female and free in this land of the brave comes
at a cost that seems way to high to me.