Domestic Epidemic And when my body will be found, rotten in the shallow ground, My hands still bound, my skull bashed in, They will finally understand the cruelty that was at hand, An epidemic in this land, the hiding thin, Excuses stretched to hide the sin, stretched so thin, Yet no one knows where to begin. My body will be taken, prodded and opened and heavily shaken, Again, forsaken by anyone to stop it, As evidence needs to be collected, no matter who will be affected, No matter who objected, as he will not admit That he did wrong, as wrong will rarely admit And more often try to outwit. At last my body will tell the story my voice never told well, My story from hell, how I lived and died, A story that no one would listen to until it was done, No matter how often I tried to outrun this hellish ride. Now, they’ll take him for questions, take him for a ride, And prosecution will show, finally getting into their stride. They will call the policeman who dismissed me and imposed a ban To stop my plan to report his offences. Because our relations, he responds to his accusations, Provided foundations to believe the defences. Too many complaints, too many defences, And he felt I needed to be brought to my senses. But now with a body found, rotten in the shallow ground, They have no way around but to face the facts. Questions on how and why will be answered by Those who were not shy to deny that there were acts Of cruelty, body and mind demolishing acts, Resulting in one irrevocable climax. Newspapers will write articles of newly found height, Intending to fright everyone’s morality. Headlines will shout of domestic abuse, reciting the cues That proceeded the news of yet another fatality. A part of a national epidemic they call this fatality, Before they forget again and return to normality. The guilt gets divided based on the evidence provided And it is decided that only one is to blame. Only the one who acted is the one who impacted Protracted upon this young woman with so many names. Lives ended before they begun, remembered the names By no one, and all that remains are the claims. Everyone else walks free to live their lives and to see Whether they remember, she who died, After a month or a year. Whether their conscience is clear When their own death is near, and they know they have tried Or not to prevent what had happened. Have they tried? Or just closed their eyes and believed the one who lied? For now, I am dead, there is no more threat For me to dread. But you are still here and bound To live and to find the morrow without any sorrow. I wish you no harm but your life to be crowned With genuine love, and not as I was crowned To be found rotten in the shallow ground. copyright Eva Laurenson |