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Never singing singing

Never singing singing

To his chafed

and calloused touch

To his time for him

and him alone

To his bark

that breaks my bones


Never singing singing

To the place I live a lie

To the girl gone in the mirror

To the backbone sick and dying


Never singing singing

To the children

never raised

To the spirit

dead within me

To my body

on the grave.


Just sing one note, damn you

my voice reflected cries

One single small

intensive note

is all that is required.


Without that note

I will never sing

to the place where murmurs grow

To the left and to

the wrong of those

who talk but never know


If they would only stop their natter

and intonate to me

I may some day find my voice

then singing I would leave


But never singing singing

the metronome still plays

its wicked little ticking game

I sweep

my tomb

and wait.

For those who are survivors of domestic violence, keep singing. And to those who have not yet found their voices, and are still living with domestic violence shadowing their lives… please sing the first note, and tell someone, or sing free and leave.

-colleen hannah

About vancouverislandpsychosis

I am just an island girl, literally and at heart. The ocean's edge is where I find what I lost during the year, usually that is my brain. I am a fan of laughter and anyone who can laugh at his or herself. I myself need laughter to live, and of course a beach nearby.

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