ONE

It was just one drink,

One bruise

One time

Or was it?

It was a history,

Littered with incidents

Of tiny, jagged cuts.

The result of just one drink.

Her skin is a history,

Littered with incidents,

Far more than one

Incidents of bruises, of pain, of agony,

Of cries for help into a bottomless pit.

She sunk and she sunk,

With no one to save her

No hope out of the quicksand

she fell, deeper and deeper

with every drink, every scream.

She writhes in pain, a desperate attempt to escape.

Bawling, asking their child to close her eyes.

Control the jolts for her sake, she tells herself.

“I love you” he smiled, as she mustered a grin in response.

That is the story they tell you.

Of a helpless angel.

Of just one drink, of just one time

Just one incident.

Do not fall for it.

She wasn’t always an angel without wings,

Floundering helplessly as he squashed her.

No.

Her wings, her pride, were chipped

Feather by feather

Bone by bone.

She fought and she fought,

She was her own saviour

Her hero

She climbed up, step by step, every time she was pushed down.

But alas,

Every angel must greet God

As did she

After just one more drink, he pushed her

And this time, she fell

He had broken her,

Feather by feather,

Bone by bone.

She is not the only one.

Every year, God greets 50,000 angels,

Pushed, thrown, shoved

Into pits of their own.

The other 27.5 million persist,

They refuse to let go

To give up, to let him win.

They climb and they climb,

Even if it’s just one time,

just one more breath.

But why?

These pits do not simply exist

They are born

Born out of unjust rage, an unquenchable thirst for power,

For intimidation.

But why?

Not because she is weak, no

Because she is strong, she is powerful and glorious.

He wants to break her, to see defeat in those brave eyes.

But not this time.

Not this once.