Fear
She wears her fear
as a tightly woven navaho blanket
stretched across the bitter wrinkles of her forehead
down her curved back
and all the way down to the soles of her feet.
She avoids eye contact, rarely speaks above a whisper.
Life has overpowered her.
I've never seen a picture of her
nor can I remember her name
but I've carried her story inside my head for years.
She lived in South Africa,
Sierra Leone to be exact.
I read that soldiers kidnapped her and were holding her captive.
She was raped, but that was not the worst part.
The worst was that when she was taken she had just had a baby who was stillborn.
So all these years I have imagined this poor woman,
who was dead inside
long before they beat her.
