The murmering
The shuffling
Grew in volume
And Irony looked down from his bench
Gavel hovering
Disdain,  boredom
A hint of disgust etched into his furrows

You knew his words before spoken
They’d been said a million times
Echo after echo
A typewriter’s stuck keys
Why only now
Why not sooner
Not even questioned
Statements of fact
For the record
On your record
You do not get to have your say
Your day in court
Your voice listened to
As well as heard

You are the victim
Who asked to be harmed
Who called for the pain
Who begged for the fear
Your mere existence a green light
Your very being a cause for concern
Why didn’t you fight
Why did you drink
Why allow access
Why didn’t you run

The Irony sits in his seat on high
Rearranging his robes
Irony leafs through the evidence
Cursory glances down then up

The Irony
You’ve always been running
Just not on your feet
Far, far away though
You’ve been to Australia and back
Running for thousands of miles
Until you stopped one day
And faced that abuser
And Irony asked you
Why you didn’t run

Because irony doesn’t and won’t understand
Irony has never had to run from a thing in his life
All he has is judgement
And judgement from a gilded seat on high
A place of great safety

Irony has so little concern
That he cannot see
You’ve been running for ever
And ever
And though standing there facing him down
You’re running still

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2 Responses to Irony

  1. Strong and powerful words on the clincial, victim blaming approach of some judges. I cannot wait for you to be published. You richly deserve it.

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