I’m in a canoe
alone
under a cold
moon paddling
upstream in a white
water river of
tears

not just my tears. they sure are in there. but not just my tears. all of our tears. all of the tears of the women who have been raped. our bodies pillaged like gold mines, leaving us polluted and empty. I know there are many of us, because this river rages. it rages white and whips the edges off all the boulders who stand near to watch. we rage too. we’re drowned out too, just like the thousand million sounds of the river that all blend in the ear of man. one cry. like the roar of the river, men sit beside us and drown out our sorrows. they speak over us. they are deaf to the thousand million voices. each one begging or demanding. this voice, beckoning solid social change. the men rape us. it’s the system who teaches them how to do it. the system which rapes the earth. the system which men created. the same men which we bore from our bodies. we’re drowning as you drown out our thousand million voices. pledge allegiance to the sanctity of women. then maybe in one thousand years, this river will be a deep dry valley. where no one is silenced. where even a single voice may resound, echo for miles, be heard and heard again, off of the walls of the valley we carved from our tears.

I’m in a canoe
alone
under a cold
moon paddling
upstream in a white
water river of
tears

not just my tears. they sure are in there. but not just my tears.

Advertisements