Thursday, December 14, 2017

Disinterred

I believe you…

Buried for decades, comes a time
to heal yourself from the cancer
that day-by-day eats away
pieces of the person you once were.
Don’t listen to those who question your motives
that scream “fake news”
as if to say that it's okay
to lust after a 14 year old
or force the hand of a 16 year old
to justify their own perversions.

I believe you…

I know that there are certain truths
invisible to naked eyes
that take the innocence of youth.
Even those who know you best
might never know or realize
that you felt you were to blame—
inside bleeding from the shame.

I believe you…

For every Weinstein, Trump or Moore
are other unknown predators
ones with little the cash or fame
that prey upon the vulnerable.
Their victims each recall their name,
and every look and every leer—
how vivid still their face remains.

I believe you…

Those who choose to speak up now
who’ve forged ahead despite the cost;
it can’t make up for time that’s passed
or what was taken, what was lost;
the naysayers may ridicule,
but those who’ve been there know the truth.

I believe you…

Though by the past we’re not defined
at times its shadow lingers on.
We should not let it blight our soul.
The truth should never be confined—
admission waits, long overdue:
I add my voice and say
          “Me too”


© Ginny Brannan 2017

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.