I have always thoughtit could have been worseand I was luckythat night at my cozy cabinwhen a drunk neighbormarried father of threetwice my sizelet’s call him Bobcame through my gateinside the stockade fenceonto my porchslurring c’mon let me come inc’mongripping my arms pressing mewith his whole big bodyagainst the side of the househis mouth on my faceand neckrocky stream only feet awayand far belowbut somehow I objectedenough times and loudly enoughthat he stoppedtook offand yes yes oh yesthat could have been a lot worsebut my little cabinwas less cozy after thatSpring Creek less comfortingrealizing even thenthis was not my firststomachingimpotent ragenor would it be the lastand upon reflectionI am feeling a bit less lucky
Linking up with Paul’s prompt in the Imaginary Garden: AWHAPE ME!
Consider me awhaped! I am not at all surprised by the number of #metoo posts I am seeing from females i know both family and friends. We can only hope that the visibility starts a conversation that leads to change.
ReplyDeleteOoh, Marian! I'm glad you managed to get rid of him but I can understand how the intrusion affected you afterwards. What a pity about your cosy cabin. Why should women put up with it?
ReplyDeleteI had a similar experience years ago .. dark, middle of nowhere, alcohol a factor, left with bruises ~ emotional and external. #me too.
ReplyDeleteA devastating fact how women has to change their ways of being for such men... so much can be wrecked with those mean acts, maybe he should be consider himself lucky that you didn't crush his balls.
ReplyDeleteSo many stories of men abusing women.
ReplyDeleteI never knew.
namaste
JzB
I'm glad she escaped. Many don't. But then the alcohol works against his prowess as well as lessening his inhibitions. Horrible too is that this episode will never be forgotten.
ReplyDelete..
Good that it took such a turn. Stay safe
ReplyDeletemuch love...
I can only think there must be something in my cold green stare that has kept the predators at bay, but I feel lucky not to have been in such a situation.. but I know too many who have had to go through similar or worse ordeals. Is it the curse of our gender, or that socialization seems always to follow the path of least resistance, when no one wants to speak up or no one wants to hear the truth?
ReplyDeleteGood topic for the poets among us to ponder.
What a horrible thing to endure, and to keep inside. I've always thought that no being able to speak certain truths would make my insides rot.
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately I am a #metoo also. Your poem is fierce in telling your ordeal and then realizing using the word lucky has lost its shamrock shine.
ReplyDeleteWell done, Marian, and unfortunately timely.
ReplyDeleteMaybe the the hope of this challenge is that #metoo will become an anachronism like awape me. But a lot of biology and Y chrromosome will have to go away, too. This poem is a sharply and shapely written to the current point -- that after such assaults one is never again safe enough. I have been drunk and demanding what I couldn't ask for sober so #metoo.
ReplyDeleteScratch any woman and you will find these stories. You took me right there, Marian, the adrenalin of trying to stave off the attack, the relief and terror at the narrow escape. Sigh. Thanks for this important poem. I had so many stories, I couldnt choose, so I wrote something general. Where to begin?
ReplyDeleteYes, yes, yes.
Delete