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.