Never think

because of my silence

that I don't understand.

I've been where you are . . .

I can't put

the words on my feelings

the way you can . . .

I don't have the courage

to voice the name

of my pain.

When I was young,

they taught me

about rape.

They told me

of the invasion

and showed me

how to hold my keys

between my fingers

to stab at eyes

and win escape.

They didn't tell me

about his

kind of rape--

the tearing,

not of body,

but of heart--

a forced instrusion,

unexpected,

unwanted,

and irreversible . . .

Someone did that to me

and someone did it to you.

The gash is long,

the hole painful,

and I know where

you're coming from

when you say

the pain

will last forever.

But take courage

in the midst

of the storm.

He tore your heart--

he did not

take it away.

It's there still,

listen to it flutter

faintly.

It won't be long

before it beats again

with the

strength

to break through

all the chains

that restrain it.