Angry men are glass
When they shatter
Their shards slice:
they destroy what matters.
They cut up lives,
lose the love they amassed.
poem-shouting late October 27, 2018
She’s eighty-nine
and now she tells the story of rape,
of giving up a panopoly of dreams
for the baby boy.
(Shot gun wedding)
Love and happiness can’t be forced,
like sex.
Society forced her silence,
condemned divorce,
when she refused abuse,
and sought in the ashes of her dreams
for a phoenix.
Bitter choices,
dream fragments,
cobbled into a life,
grumbled about now.
Dream stealing beast,
a boy who wouldn’t hear no,
seven decades of curses
don’t erase the bitterness
of loss.
.
.
(true story)
poem-flames February 7, 2015
She’s caught between the flames
of inferno and ice
Accusations of blame,
of who’s not playing nice.
She’s caught between the fury
of defeat and aggression,
For neither is sorry
and all leads to depression.
She’s caught between love
crushed between hate
a magician’s dove
that is stuffed then must wait.
She’s caught between threads
stuffed up their sleeves
’til she’s dangling her head
beneath the nearest trees.
Shawn L. Bird 
sharing July 24, 2017
Tags: assault, feminism, violence, women
Being A Girl: A Brief Personal History of Violence
I wonder how many women do not have these stories in their lives? I suspect there are few if any. We acknowledge these stories, but so rarely bother to stand up to them, because they are ubiquitous. I am glad to see the light being shone on them and the label being attached. Yes, these are assaults. Yes, this is violence. This is why some cultures are so protective of girls, but why, why, why can’t the blame be put entirely where it belongs- on the perpetrators of this violence?
Perhaps because that requires us to look at our own dark natures?
I was recently reading an article that talked about the passive label like “Violence against women” as if there is no agent acting. Where does that violence come from? Not the ether. Let’s label the agents, not the objects of the action.
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