Where is the Wound?

Is it in our wombs -- the rape, the forced entry, the B&E of our bodies? What have I done that I can no longer find it? I'm like a stone. But... wake me up from a deep sleep in the middle of the night, and you will smell the blood of that wound. Buried deep under my stone facade, a small girl wakes to the terrifying sound of her terrified mother screaming, "Help! Help!" And a silent man, his arm around the mother's neck, drags her out of the warm amber confines of the little house into the dark unknown. Maybe because that happened to her, later, when it happened to me, I didn't scream or shed a tear. I was thrilled to escape with my life. I jumped from the rolling truck and ran off into my f

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