For All the Victims of Sexual Assault, With Love.

heart2

People’s hearts are ripping open.
Mine is too. The clawing tear.
There is no painless way to arrive
at the truth, at emancipation.
To wrest the long-buried secrets
From festering in the darkest caves,
To lay bare the grisly stories
And understand the vicious stronghold
Of the oppressor in locking them down,
For so long, in their greed, and fear.
There is no winner where power lives.
There is no winner where power lives.
Past the bloody fields of power’s rule,
I see children. Wounded, bright, pure.
They are us. What we want to be.
What we have never learned
To retain as we grow older.
I see us feeling before thinking.
I see us accepting before drawing lines
in the sand of you and I, he and she.
I see us looking around at the wreckage,
unsure how this all came to be.
I see us crying, understanding
from a deep place of ancient sadness.
I see looking at each other and
bowing at the alter of what is sacred
in every last person among us, and,
without speaking, vowing. Never again.
No subjugation. No lies. No cover-ups.
No thirst for more than we need.
No false needs. No avoiding the pain inside.
I see us embracing our pain together.
I see us knowing this pain is all of ours.
I see us reaching for joy beyond pain,
and knowing this joy has no limits,
and is destined for each one of us.
I see peace. I see love. I see peace.
 
– Tammy Takahashi
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