Moments of solitude killed her.
Slowly, over the two years of her confinement.
One day speaking her mind, speaking her truth, spewing forth acid.
The acid burned and they took her.
In the night.
(Women are always taken in the night.)
They took her in the night and shut her away where she couldn’t speak her mind,
couldn’t speak her truth except to a wall of cement –
unmovable and unforgiving.
At first she allowed seeds of hope to nestle in the moments of solitude,
watered by her tears, the knowledge that she could still feel and emote.
If a woman cries in a soundproof concrete box, can anyone hear it?
Can you hear it?