Does It?

(ongoing poetic project by Ramsy)


If you knew your sister had gotten stopped.
By a stranger.
And this faceless stranger started to backhand her in the mouth.
With one hand.
While holding her collar so she could not get away.
With the other.
Your heart would probably race.
Looking into the horror of her mangled face.

If you knew your brother had been attacked brutally.
By a stranger.
For the crime of putting one foot in front of the other.
Walking home to your dear and sweet mother.
After leaving the home of your father.
Yet neither one would listen.
Going about their days.
Scolding you and shrugging about “god” and “his ways”.

I wouldn’t flinch nor twitch or hesitate
to say you’d do nothing but wait.
Standing nervously by while you whimper and cry.
Because that’s what we do. That’s why.
Not unless Mommy and Daddy drag us away
from the internet porn and the games that we play.
To give us permission,
When to jump. How loud to yell
about the pettiest things and the dumbest as well.

You’d wait for permission to speak
If allowed.
On the freedoms we have and what makes you so darn proud.
As we wait for the screams to subside and
ignore the blood splattered.
You’d eventually scurry away
’cause it don’t really matter.
You’re safe from the pain.
It’s not your lip that was split.
It has nothing to do with you
Does it?

photo by yupachingping

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