Soul-Raped

The little girl
Weeps in the corner;
Another night in solitude
Far away from the feud.

She’s open only to her music now
And enraged by her own short fuse.
Tattered and showing scars of family
And her own inflicted abuse.

Cold silence matters,
And comforts her to the core.
Wishing only celebate remnants
Would remove her feelings of whore.

Now drowning in her tears,
She faces her spirit incarnate;
Clinging to a life without shame,
Wiping away memories of it.

Stirring the truth in her life,
Confusing the thoughts in her head;
Seeking a way from unsheltered memories
To validate all that she’s bled.

Tired of being here,
Shunned by her own morality –
She done fighting this losing battle
But still wishes immortality.

No voice can bring healing.
No flowers release feeling.
No hands will suppress the fears
That he will someday return, wielding,
Her secrets on his sleeve.

Holding her down
Shielding her eyes
It’s coming back to her
The hate, the hurt, the lies.

Brutal tightening,
Sequestered, secluded again.
Another soul lost;
Another salvation spent.

©2003 Joe Jenkins

This is dedicated to the women who lose themselves from the horrendous travesty of physical, emotional, sexual and domestic abuse. The fabric of our society gets torn by the loss of these women. It’s inspired by my own feelings on the subject and the countless stories of this tragedy that have been accounted to me over the years. – Joe Jenkins