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.*



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Author: valo

I am a poet, writer and activist with a special interest in human rights for children and women as well as the elimination of poverty worldwide. If you read this today, feed someone locally for me will you? Drop off a non perishable food item at the food bank nearest you and consider yourself hugged. Thank you!

6 thoughts on “We Don’t See Merit In”

    1. Of course your opinion matters Corra! I’m happy you breezed onto my blog and left a comment. As of today I’m at war with my book and my mother, just as it was when she was alive. I’m hoping to make up the word count tomorrow. Writing is so glamourous and joyful lol

    1. Thank you Gabrielle for always understanding whatever current I’m swimming against. If anything ever came easily I think I’d take a good look around for the clowns and pranksters. I’ll keep at it and as I’m currently writing two other projects ( a novel and a memoir of my mother—think Roberta on the Train) someone will take something and it will sell. In fact, is Ma doesn’t sell, she may just come back from the other side and raise holy hell lolol

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