AFTER THE RAPE

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Arthur, you just walked away. But let’s be clear. What you are walking away from is the rape because that is your way of going forward.

It was more like running. Frantically.

Away. As if the rape itself had a self. You said a thousand time that it would not define you, and yet, it does.

You have my permission to see yourself outside the context of rape because, Arthur, the rape isn’t even you on the darker nights, alone, an earthquake in the shivering.

I am informed that after the rape is just another hard part. You are a life of hard and harder parts. All of us are this thing, too. You knew the day would arrive when you would let the rape come inside the door.

Now, you can run again.

Go feel the rage in the onslaught of poetry that wells up from your gut and is articulated by your delicious mouth.

Keep doing that.

Render it a tool, one of many, employed to manage all the different shamans out there. I have seen it in the river of my dreams.

 



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