That night that claimed her
Nonchalantly returning a clothing item at the mall
He caught her off guard at her car door
Shoving her in with his gun glued to her side.
It went downhill from there.
Forcing her to withdraw cash at ATM
Driving her to molest and rape her
At an isolated spot, far from people
Her screams not heard
Using his belt to choke and drag her.
She passed out, laying lifeless
He stole her car and purse
Fleeing the scene.
She woke half dressed
Saw lights in the distance
Appeared on their porch seeking help.
They called police giving her only a robe
Not letting her inside
For fear of who was out there lurking.
She survived but he did not.
Killed trying to steal
Another man’s car.
She carried on losing
Trust in people
Living in fear and anger.
Anger that could flip
In a second
Building walls distancing those she loved.
Walls that I, her only sister
Could not penetrate
Or fix.
14 thoughts on "That night that claimed her"
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This poem has so much raw emotion and is starkly cinematic— I felt as though I was a part of the narrative. Waiting until the last stanza to reveal the woman’s identity and the forever effect of such violence is incredibly powerful. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you- yes it was my sister.
Terrifying and an important narrative
The ending is like a telescope suddenly zooming in.
Speechless.
Incredible, Linda. I hate to know that so many relate to this story. The placement of the reveal that the poem is not the narrator’s experience but that of their sister is heart-wrenching and powerful. <3 As beautiful a poem as can be written about this topic, I think.
I agree.
The title drew me to open. Appreciate the content warning. Helped to enter this life-changing experience.
Heartbreaking all of it, especially “Walls that I, her only sister/Could not penetrate/Or fix.”
Very raw and honest portrayal of the event, Linda! Heartbroken for where it took her.
Such a difficult experience to write about and you have done so with a sensitivity that understands the process. The reality of such a tragedy does not disappear. Thank you for sharing .
This is devastating! I’m so sorry this happened to her.
You told the story of your sister with precision AND empathy. Well done. At least you understand her state of living with PTSD. Not all families or family members can be bothered. (My own rape, the husband of a married friend, occurred when I was 22. I’m 73, and each year, I manage it a little bit more than the last. It’s a long, arduous process.)
Thank you for this honest and sensitive poem.
So sorry for your trauma. Yes it lasts a lifetime. Hope you accepted counseling. My sister refused it.
Very colorful and traumatic. As you read down, the poem becomes short clipped and terse, making it punch a little harder each time.