Other Lives

— Pushpa MacFarlane

As I read about the lives
of other women who relive
their scars over and over,
skewered by the jagged shrapnel
of their memory of what men
in their lives did to them,
or how these women caved in
unwittingly,
I feel myself shaking—as I sit
shrouded in silence,
shoulders racking in painful heaves,
tears creasing through—unfiltered,
while unstifled gasps escape,
rattling through the exhaust
like scraping sounds of rusty cans
against concrete.
One treads softly as on creaking boards
yielding to the weight of reality.
So many stories, so many lives,
different, varied from mine,
yet bound by that common thread
of femininity—the cyclical blood
that runs warm between our thighs—
secret and silent.

One thought on “Other Lives

  1. "Creaking boards/ yielding to the weight of reality" is such a powerful line. Your poem speaks to the vulnerability and incredible strength of women, and these are not at all contradictory concepts.

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