Women often pay the price of war
What couldn’t happen to her just opened the door
His hands, his weight, his rage
His power and assertion over her
All his nightmares become her shame
The stolen man returns over the sea
His shadow passes through security
In the shadow, sorrow grows into rage
Into entitlement
Into dominance
Into her debt to pay
Her voice falls to the floor as soon as it leaves her mouth
Not an ear hears her cries
Should she say it, he would be right
Should she speak it, she would walk in shame
Should she act on it, it is she who is painted in blame
Her dignity, her character, her clothes consented to the broken hero