Photo by Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash

What can we do to make this world safe for women?

She asked me

I didn’t have an answer

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about

All the sleepless nights

The pools of sweat on my sheets

Ripping off soaked pajamas

Trying to rest in a world without justice

How much I’ve ached

as I’ve recalled memories

which should not be mine

Memories she is just now beginning

to unearth

I didn’t tell her

I’ve sat in self-pity for years

A martyr

On a throne of suffering

How I have cried for her

But now she calls me



to me

(to herself)

that she, too,

has been raped

I have nothing I can say to her

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