Butterfly [Poetry on Domestic Voilence Survivors]

Someone made you feel so small,

They stole your voice away. Made you sorry for being you.

Made you feel that the black eyes and purple evidence of pain that mark you,

are all your fault.

All your fault. 

You were the one that made them hit you, hurt you, beat you black and blue, they say.

They put their virulent-veined faces too close to yours and screamed until spit splashed your face.

The late-night tears and heart cries at the doors of rooms you were locked out of,

tumbling tears puddled on the porcelain tile, making the floor wet with misery and your multiplied loss of dignity. 

First, they take away your you-ness, then they strip you of your family and friends,

under the umbrella of wanting you all to themselves. 

But there is escape, there is a way back to beautiful you. 

to freedom. . . freedom from fear and feeling so low

and the soul-shaking knowledge that someone so hateful would hurt you,

just for being you. 

Fly butterfly, fly now. Just as soon as you can. 

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