i am writing a paper about using narrative therapy with battered women. and while reading some of my sources, i came across this poem...
i went to hell this week
i watched a man with gaping mouth
scream with no sound.
bent above the body of his dead wife,
he'd been screaming, thusly, for a million
knife in hand.
below another knife i saw
a man and woman tear asunder
who had trusted both without question
but finally questioned both the same.
and, then, a mirror image of myself
showed me the door and handed me
a bloody key.
wounded, but free.
elaine lawless 1978