On working clinically with survivors of domestic violence

They come to me tender and swollen,
they cling to me while I sleep
and I hope for them

They cling to me while I walk and while I cook
while I am in half consciousness
they are riding along
softly hijacking my psyche

they are enveloping me and poking at the boundaries of my compassion
which cannot help but stretch

They are humbly asking for more
not sure they deserve it
it's my job to help them know

they are suffering and working hard
and they are experiencing new joy

the freedom is raw
they sink into the newness but sometimes it feels so sharp--

Life generated risks hit them head on, so....
what to choose?
sometimes they feel too jaggedly
the starkness of being alone
and yet once they taste it they do not long for the old
the regime of fear in the every crack of their home

They come to me with hopes planted loosely
aspiring one day to grow from cement

They are alive
every day is new
their soft reaching for the better encompasses me
I am born for them to feel
and to reach
especially to reach

I am born in a newness created by the reaching and the mission
their subtle instrument of outrageous resolve

They are falling upward, foot in front of other
running slowly toward a vision to hold strong