This one, where I stand
I am first, a survivor. To get here,
I was a victim.

I walked that long spiral road,
a winding and dark labrynth, filled
with pictured memories, like shards
of glass, splintered into my brain.
So deep, they stab at will, and I cannot
stop them.

Two days before, I saw my sister's face.
A busy restaurant's din to swallow my
pleas for forgiveness. She has not yet
answered me. Perhaps she believes it is
impossible to forgive the dead. I wish
she knew that I survived.

Three daughters to share my pain. To
follow me to the gates of death, and
usher me home. They are my proof that
I live. I exist. I was born and I will die.
But not by you.

Four grandchildren, whose faces smiled at me like
angels. I wanted to see them live. I wanted to live
with them. I wanted them more than you wanted to kill
me.

Five times a night, I awake in cold sweats.
I am ashamed to ask for comfort, and I hide in
my fear. No man calls me his wife. This road I travel
is lonely, but I am not alone.

Six days you ran. Six days you fled, pretending to
ignore the devastation you left behind. Lying about
my blood on your clothes, and my cries of mercy in your
ears. I doubt you forgot them.


Seven felony counts, including Attempted Murder,
Battery, Kidnapping and Sexual Assault. You will
only plead guilty to one.

Eight Months of hell, and more to come.
I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I cannot
forget the moment I almost died. It never ends.
I see it everyday.

Nine hours a day, I see your face. I hide my own
because people blame mine. They blame my voice,
and my body for your rage. For every one finger
they point at you, they point Nine back at me.

Ten months, and I have my say. Ten months, and I will
speak to you for the last time. To tell you
that you underestimated me. To say that your perversions,
your lies, your betrayal, your evil, wasn't enough
to take me away from my life.

I lived.

09/24/2007

Author's Note: This isn't my greatest piece, but it wasn't meant to be. I wrote this because my mother asked me to write out ten points for her to refer to, when she confronts her attacker on his sentencing. He took a plea bargain for almost taking her life. We're hoping he sees significant prison time. This is merely to filter my emotions, and keep my writing objective. This has been a very hard thing for me to do, lately.

Posted on 09/24/2007
Copyright © 2024 Maria Kintner