For every friend or neighbor who turns the other way,
There is a woman fighting to get out alive.
For every time a battered mother cries,
There is a baby aging through fear and anger.
For every sign of hope,
There is another trap to bind her to the past.
For every fist and every rage,
There is a bruise to mark her shame.
For every man who claims his sanction over her body,
There is a woman losing touch with her own.
For every frightened child,
There is a mother who stands watch by their bedside.
For every hand reaching out,
There is an abuser to silence their cries.
©2012 Jessica Stephenson All Rights Reserved