Phylmarie Fëss updated her profile picture.
get well card
a girl was battered
sometimes by her angry mother with the father’s belt,
but because mother said to,
most often her father swung that leather strip
or his hand,
while he said,
“look at me when i talk to you.
don’t look at me like that.”
or he’d ask,
“what are you crying for? i’ll give you something to cry for,”
“don’t you feel it? i’ll make you feel it,”
then he’d hit again.
again.
and the girl hugged herself and tried not to cry too much or too little
saying in her mind, “not your fault.
remember they used to love you.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
sometimes by her angry mother with the father’s belt,
but because mother said to,
most often her father swung that leather strip
or his hand,
while he said,
“look at me when i talk to you.
don’t look at me like that.”
or he’d ask,
“what are you crying for? i’ll give you something to cry for,”
“don’t you feel it? i’ll make you feel it,”
then he’d hit again.
again.
and the girl hugged herself and tried not to cry too much or too little
saying in her mind, “not your fault.
remember they used to love you.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
a young woman was declared tramp and evicted
by her landlady
when she respectfully, privately
requested that the older woman tell the elder's father
to please keep his strange words,
and his hands
off.
so the young woman walked along the treed, nighttime road
with cases and purse in arms and wept silently
while strangers stared
thinking to herself, “not your fault.
they are sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
by her landlady
when she respectfully, privately
requested that the older woman tell the elder's father
to please keep his strange words,
and his hands
off.
so the young woman walked along the treed, nighttime road
with cases and purse in arms and wept silently
while strangers stared
thinking to herself, “not your fault.
they are sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
an at-home-alone daughter was raped
by a drunken neighbour
who chastised her sin,
so she reclused to her room
and watched the door,
for months.
till one evening she whispered her shame,
and her mother recradled the girl in arms and wept with her,
saying, “not your fault.
his mind is sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
by a drunken neighbour
who chastised her sin,
so she reclused to her room
and watched the door,
for months.
till one evening she whispered her shame,
and her mother recradled the girl in arms and wept with her,
saying, “not your fault.
his mind is sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
a ‘with-child’ woman was pounded
by a stranger who threw his jacket over her head
on a downtown street,
beaten as he shrieked, “bitch! bitch!”
and later her sister held the woman in her arms and wept with her
saying, “not your fault.
his mind is sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
by a stranger who threw his jacket over her head
on a downtown street,
beaten as he shrieked, “bitch! bitch!”
and later her sister held the woman in her arms and wept with her
saying, “not your fault.
his mind is sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”
how many more
we belted girls?
we tormented women?
we raped daughters?
we pounded mothers?
before we all walk together
and need no longer cry, “not our fault.
it's the violence-borne society,
the violence-porne society,
the violence-torn society,
that is sick.
it’s not
our
fault.”
we belted girls?
we tormented women?
we raped daughters?
we pounded mothers?
before we all walk together
and need no longer cry, “not our fault.
it's the violence-borne society,
the violence-porne society,
the violence-torn society,
that is sick.
it’s not
our
fault.”
no more,
Creator, please.
no more,
now.
we
walk
together
now.
Creator, please.
no more,
now.
we
walk
together
now.
~ manidoonaateshing-ikwe / phylmarie
If you wish, to preserve layout, I give permission to copy and paste the whole honour song poem from title to signature line end. Thank you for passing on the message in defense of girls and women.
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