Come close with those wounds, I will nurse you. Sip my dose of pure help. Alone is what you’re not, hold my steady hand I will lift you to your free throne. Wipe your tears, be happy, your plea found my ears. Oh bruised one, run to my warm sun, cold your hours have been.

Sin is turning one’s back to a woman in need. Look into my eyes, I mean you a milky recovery. Steady your breath chased one, your foe will seek and find you not for you’re on board a safe boat. Relinquish your old world, allow me to vanquish the evil that happened to you. I know starting a new life is difficult, thus I am walking with you.

I know your flesh bears marks of silent abuse. Each and every single bruise bleeds a gore of constant beatings. Dark rings circle your eyes with many hopeless tearful nights; fear gave weakness power over your knees. Your scream for mercy from your abuser served only to amplify the beast; behind closed doors your very home became a boxing ring.

The king is leaving, and when love dies the violent devils move in. Find death not in an abusive and unwavering season. Passion is loving from a distance in fear of abusive claws when you come close. My shoulder will absorb your tears, my words will heal your brutalised soul. Love will come once more; soar away from the bird of prey you call lover.

Blossom free and beautiful my rose, your season is here. Night is vanquished, light has made your future ventures bright. The storm of abuse is over, out you come from hiding, never will I let you bleed again. People envy a happy couple in the day without knowing that when night comes and doors are shut, one becomes Satan’s double, the other abused victim. I shame men for wounding and killing our women and children.

We are the first born, the protectors of God’s rule and our women, yet we love to be on the contrary. We ruin our hands with scars we physically and emotionally inflict upon our women and children. Halt men, restraint thy-selves from this abusive, murderous act. Let us be men of honour and civilised virtue, let us bring warmth and summer smiles at home. I shame all men who raise a hand to women in the name of forcing respect.

Sadists we have become; some of our women die in your cruel hands. Children grow up painfully without roots. Alcohol our perfect pathetic shield when morning shines on our evil art. Regret visits only when she has left, then we perform an art of emotional blackmail and recapture her only to repeat that which caused her to escape in the middle of the night.

Mighty is not a man with a fearful abused wife. We plant a beautiful cherry garden of lies in their hearts as bait to devour their precious apples. Delicious the meal will be, yet oblivion consumes the seed planted. The garden is left to tend to the gardener’s plants; many wear pants, but a few bring honour to the trousers.

I see men not, but an army of bruisers set to wage a sexist and abusive war on our women and children. Women are the mothers of heroes, prophets, leaders, Kings and Queens. We forget that without a woman Jesus would not have existed nor would he have died for our very sins.

Children know a bitter growth in our absence. The true essence of a man is to brood one’s eggs. A father’s presence holds precious value more than gold; find a fatherly virtue and save your family from the dangerous world. Walls hold matrimony, silent grieving, prisons stalls are empty. Abused women and children are plenty, when will this brutal cycle end? It feels like this fight against gender-based violence is lodged in quicksand, doomed to fail.

With my words I bail out all women and children from the poisonous prison they have come to know as a norm. My sisters, my mothers and my children, I write to fight for your right to breathe a safe and sweet harmless breath. I hope you come to know me as a friend that will shine for you even in dark times. Read my love for you rather than crying in a corner of a home that is colder than Satan himself. Keep your hope and prayers on your top faithful, holy shelf. I know he beats you every night, but worry not for I am your knight with a poetic, just pen.


Tell us: Do you have any solutions to help end gender-based violence?