When women quietly tell
how they were raped
or that thing he did
without permission
“I froze
I fought
And I just lay there in case
he did something worse…”
She was drunk when she told me
but she wasn’t back then
even if she was
it shouldn’t have happened
I went home and I cried
when she told me, quietly
that haunted look in her blue eyes
sometimes
made sense
And I wanted to mother her
more than ever
so
we had more wine
and I did nothing much
just sat there listening in case
she said something worse…
I went home and I cried
holding her story inside
hoping pain could be cured
even slightly
by being spoken and heard
clairevetica 
Hey Claire,
I can’t really describe the effect that poem had on me. It leaves me with an overwhelming sadness. A powerful little poem
Looking forward to seeing you guys in a few months, love to all,
Cath, xxx
Sent from my iPhone
Thanks Cath. It still makes me sad to this day – amazing how long-reaching the repercussions of sexual violence can be. It’s a heavy burden even for someone who only hears the story. Is it any wonder why women (and men) are careful who they tell about these things? That is not to say that I’m not honoured and willing to listen.
PS: really looking forward to seeing you too! x
You’re a wonderful friend, Claire. Do you feel powerless because you feel there is nothing you can do? I think be being there and listening you’re doing a lot.
I don’t know that I feel powerless exactly – against the perpetrators of these crimes perhaps. It mostly just makes me extremely sad. And angry if I think about it too much. I guess we all do what we can for our friends.