By Sheila Ewers
Of course he covered her mouth.
Denying her voice,
he could write the story.
We girls learn early
that what remains unspoken
Remains Unreal.
How else could we survive?
And when she swallowed her scream
(as we all do)
it took the words with it
lodging them
into the very parts he
stuffed himself into.
They may have stayed there forever too
Had the scent of his smug victory
not wafted from every screen.
Had his name not been hissed into
her face every day
while he groped his
way under
Lady Justice’s skirt.
The stench
of him growing so ripe
in the spotlight of his glory
that finally
she had to vomit the truth back
to the world
and wait for dozens more of them
to press hands over
her mouth
and hand him
a gavel to cudgel
her sisters.
Sheila Ewers is the owner of two yoga studios, a teacher, and a writer living in Johns Creek, Georgia. Before opening the studios, she taught college writing and literature for years. She is intrigued by the intersection of yoga, literature, philosophy, and social responsibility and finds her voice growing louder as a result of the current political climate. Her hope is that in finally speaking her own rage and truth, other women will find their voices as well.
Photo credit: Vero Photoart on Unsplash.
beautiful..powerful.