WINTER

Rape. We do not speak of it.

Girls and Boys.

Men and Women.

Eir and They and Other.


Rape knows no rules, follows no guidelines.

Patterns are intangible,

Because rape defies entropy \

Acting like a psycho killer,

Rape IS our serial killer.

Our oldest friend,

Rape is us,

Our human family,

Our most dangerous foe.

We humans know rape.


In our Genome,

In our Ancestry,

In our Behaviors,

In our Teachings,

In our Civilizations,

In our Blood.


This is why we seek Dystopia;

Utopia is a world where rape does not happen,

And this is a Lie.


Why do we focus on the Oceans? 

On the Earth and her Trees?

We look to nature for guidance.

Rape is literally burning our planet;

It is not just the car that we drive.


I want a big strong durable truck,

Because I was raped.

I want to be a strong, buff, big fat woman,

Because I was raped.


Hollywood you have our rape;

skinny actresses and beautiful actors.

Paris you have our rape;

anorexic runway dreams.

Japan you have our rape;

perfection - no guns, no litter.

Medicine you have our rape;

radiating my body, cutting my fat.

White you have our rape;

don’t shout or make too much noise; black is offensive…

No memory.


Rape is now.

Rape was. 

Rape is. 

Rape will be.


This is what we humans know deepest.

This is what we feel in our bodies and in our tortured minds.

Rape is the ground.


Rape is the Goddess Sa-ta-an, at the bottom of the Seas.

Calling us home,

Into her cold, cold depths.

There we will find peace in the frozen numbing.

It will literally heal the pain in our vaginas and in our anuses.

And soothe the broken backs,

Of our slaves; Black, Slavic; the Feminine.

Healing will come with the cold.

This is what we need,

Dear Ocean.

That us what we need,

Brother Tree,

Mother Raven,

Sister Moon,

Father Sky,

Frozen.

Rape… winter is coming.

pixabay

pixabay

Emily LeClair Metcalf