deepundergroundpoetry.com
She Her I
I heard a woman speak
about the birth of dead,
miscarriage of justice.
I heard a woman wear
her bruises as armour,
violence in her home.
I heard a woman cry
in a public cubicle, with a toddler at her feet
screaming louder than she could.
I heard this symphony,
broken women made of thorns,
Queens of our society,
muddling through these slow burning wars
and the cacophony of truth was deafening,
deafeningly quiet.
about the birth of dead,
miscarriage of justice.
I heard a woman wear
her bruises as armour,
violence in her home.
I heard a woman cry
in a public cubicle, with a toddler at her feet
screaming louder than she could.
I heard this symphony,
broken women made of thorns,
Queens of our society,
muddling through these slow burning wars
and the cacophony of truth was deafening,
deafeningly quiet.
Published 15th Mar 2020
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likes 6
reading list entries 3
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15th Mar 2020 12:15pm
17th Mar 2020 2:11am
Terrific gravitas in the slow, measured details. Powerful close. Enjoyed this.
