You have memorised his number plate,
Where he parks his car.
Just in case,
The deep gut-wrenching despair,
ever matures into anger.
An emotion you have not allowed myself to feel,
For fear of it swallowing you whole.
Sometimes,
You forget a version of you existed,
before this,
Before his hands.
But, was there?
Was there ever a clean, pure version of you?
Or were you born,
into a cycle of violence,
into a nightmare,
from which you can never wake up.
(into a world that not only allows the endless violation of our bodies,
but praises, elects and bows down to our abusers.)
Maybe, it’s etched into our very DNA,
to be at the mercy of those we’re taught, (brainwashed) to treat as gods, as our saviours.
Only, they are not here to save us,
or to protect us.
It is all a ruse, a Trojan Horse, accepted with arms open, song and dance.
Finally! The salvation we were promised,
we celebrate as the aggressors scatter across our city.
The city is in flames,
we scream.
this is not the salvation we were promised.
You curse all that lied to us,
standing in the shadow of the flames, watching them reduce your safety, your home, to ashes.
A Lasting War: Representing Troy in Ancient Greece and Medieval Europe
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