An Evening Act of Violence

They ripped her to pieces

on the lawn of 

someone she trusted,

two who had no business

anywhere near her.

How cruel, the fate of onlookers,

safe, but helpless behind a fence,

watching without physical

form. 

Defenders from all corners rushed,

one wielding a baseball bat,

striking far more deadly a pose

than any seen from

the pitcher’s mound,

shouting a declaration 

with such conviction, 

I believed her.

A voice stopped the world

from turning, 

wordlessly 

conveying an emotion,

so unmistakably maternal,

as they handed the small

body back 

to her worried mother.

They will tell you this is life,

that violence is a part of nature,

and so is death.

They only say it because

this did not happen to them.

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