I don’t write poetry often. I do it most often when I feel melancholy (code for depressed). The Holidays are coming up. It will be the first since the death of my mother, which happened on New Year’s Day 2017. I am still spinning from this.
My psychologist always says that it’s best to keep the shadow of abuse small and behind you–yet, even she recognizes that there are times when it looms large and in front–obstructing our view of our present and future. The allegations of so many women who are pointing the painful, accusatory finger at Harvey Weinstein, Roy Moore, and the countless others who must remain in silent humiliation because of the fear that precludes them from speaking out.
It brings back so much. Every day, I try to forget that our highest elected official is an admitted sexual predator. It’s almost too much to bear. And that so many of his compadres are as complicit as he is–well, that makes it more egregious.
I thought it was just me (at one time). But now, with each new story, it’s a reminder of the pain that so many of us share. Not just women either–but every single person whose sexuality was objectified and that someone tried to take advantage of her or his power over you. Yes, it’s great that we can talk about what’s been done, but now can we talk about how we can help the carnage of those left behind.
Here is the poem I wrote today.
But it was
to find a place to hide
The Hatred of
I tried to
but others wouldn’t let me
from the time I remember
until it somehow stopped.
But I never forgot…was just afraid
So, Yes, #MeToo
Peace on earth and let us all heal from all of life’s wrongs. Remember, not one of us is alone in whatever river we are paddling through; others have been in similar boats for centuries before us.
We have always had a voice, but now we have a microphone. #metoo