Confiteor (I Confess)

it was my fault

for being young female and alone

on dark streets

it was my fault

for speaking to a man I didn’t know

it was my fault

for wearing shorts tight jeans fitted slacks

a gauzy skirt a long skirt a short skirt

it was my fault

for thinking it was just a friendly conversation

it was my fault

for letting him buy me a drink

it was my fault

for walking home from the bus stop at night

it was my fault

for not being violent enough

for not screaming loud enough

for being so scared no sound would come out at all

it was my fault it was my fault it was my fault

I confess I bare my soul I bury my soul

I tell the almighty powers

the police the teachers my parents

and they tell me it was my fault

that I shouldn’t have been there

that I shouldn’t have worn that

that I should have been home

that I should have been studying

that I should have been decently silent

that I never should have laughed

accepted that drink

walked down that street

you get what you ask for

you get what you deserve

I have sinned exceedingly

in thought word and deed

and my judges are men and mock-virgins

women who have never looked outside the world

described by patriarchy

defined by the judges

men whose hands a

re not clean

women who have never questioned the boundaries

because when they stepped outside they were punished

much the same as I will be

the only forgiveness is Silence

the only forgetting is Silence

the Silence is Deafening

mea culpa mea culpa mea maxima culpa

© 2018 pamela twining