Trigger Warning: Contains strong language and discussion of sexual assault.
Is it any wonder?
that my eyes pop open in the night
at the raven memories taking flight
and my heart’s so full of thunder?
Is it any wonder?
After changing faces, houses, towns
innocence robbed, turned upside down
that I would be left reeling?
Are you devoid of any feeling?
Sure, it’s no wonder it went to hell
when I finally found a way to sell
what had always just been taken
But can’t you see I felt forsaken?
No sir, I’m not making excuses
I must have asked for those abuses
or at least that’s what you told me
You’ve made it clear: I know my blame.
These shoulders burden all the shame
it has crippled me for decades
I made my choices. I chose my roads.
But would I have still if I had known
that I had value?
Or is it fair to wonder?
that when my sad and sodden father
could not even dare to bother
to learn my name
that something might have died inside?
That to be discarded—love denied—
shattered something deep within me?
Leaving me untethered, void of traction
yet all of that carved just a fraction
of the hole in me
The rest I dug; the shovel mine
with bloodied hands to bury time
and the memories that haunt it
Oh, I do not mean to flaunt it
I hate all I did and all I lost
I could never tally what it cost;
the shadow of that season
And still… I cannot reason
how it is you could mistake
my want to give with your right to take
I think you preyed upon me
Like a predator, you burrowed deep
and feasted on my need to keep
you fat and happy
Is it any fucking wonder?
that I would want to blunt and numb
in an effort to dull down how dumb
I feel for hoping?
That’s just my way of coping
under the battered blows of your projection
and the familiar sting of my rejection
let me ask another question:
DO YOU NOT get an erection
that I must ask for your protection?
or see my brokenness as bait
and my body as some kind of slate
on which to plant your flag and write your name
how dare you see me as yours to claim
and shame and conquer
I just can’t help but wonder…
Were you not, sir, asked to name me?
And yet you chose to defame me.
Am I not your own?
Your flesh, your bone?
Or can you not see that from your throne
from which, in arrogance, you rule close-fisted
instead of stewarding what’s been enlisted
as a treasure you must cherish
My faith in man has perished
and is it any wonder?
You claim righteousness from behind the pulpit
but I think we really know the culprit:
It’s your pride
But I’ll not hide.
I will not go home or shut my mouth
or raise your babies in a silent house
where you lord over me like master
I might be a disaster
but bad news, boy: now I know better
And I’m strong enough to refuse your fetter;
I slave now under a different yoke
where the burden’s light and love is spoken
I’ve been granted mercy, love and grace
but I’m afraid for you when you someday face
oh He is beckoning
So for his glory, I will submit
although you haven’t earned it yet
but He has.
I’ll bend the knee, I’ll bow and scrape
because I’m trusting Him you’ll not escape
You’ll answer someday, maybe soon
for the sorrow that, like summer moon,
hangs over me
But I’ll wind my way back; I’ll use that light
because in spite of you, I just might
Cover Image by Milada Vigerova
Sign Up Today
You don’t have to miss anything. We send out weekly notifications when we publish a new issue. We like you—so we won’t sell your info to Google or the NSA or even advertisers, they probably already have it anyway.