Never Isolated

And you think of an island
Which no man is
You think of being cut off
As so many women are
At sea
But that it were
It never is
The isolated myth
It happens every day
It’s happening right now
In the room
In the house next door
The build up and the act
Never isolated

He snapped
And you think of a rubber band
A brittle stick
A rope pulled too tight
An action brought on
By a trigger
Fast and furious
But it’s not
Those beatings
Those deaths
Those men who harm women
Those abuses
The fella next door
The family man
Last a lifetime
They go on for ever

You hear she should have left
And you hear it again
And again
As if she didn’t tell herself
That self same line
As if she never tried
To escape
The first
Second or third
Or the thirty seventh
When she finally had the choice
No return
Or escape
When he snapped
For the thirty seventh time

This entry was posted in counting dead women, domestic violence, feminism, relationships, Violence against women and girls and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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