We Don’t See Merit In

Your survival

or the garbage cans you sorted through on the hunt for left over food

to nourish your undernourished belly

Your search

for the innocent stolen and the ache in your arms

that replicated your sore heart

Your black and blue friends

with jaws wired shut from being punched and kicked

by bullies with no more remorse than the courts who let them slip through open doors

Your promise

to your injured sisters to tell it all

harsh and real in a book

Your persistance

that defies our rejection of a story that matters

as we are in fine form which affords us the ability to continue the pretense that we read every single query we get

I see the merit in this, an inscription written in red ink inside a notebook given to me in a domestic violence transition house by a woman just like me.  It reads:

My heart goes with you!  I wish you happiness on your new journey-you now know that you have the strength to get through anything.  This is to keep track of the good and bad so you can put it in a book some day.

I love ya,

Jane Doe

*I love you too Jane Doe, wherever you are and I’ll keep my word.*