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Your Truth - a Conversation With Christine Blasey Ford

Tell me your story, leave out no fact,
I’ll pose my questions with sympathy and tact,
You’re a brave woman with a pure heart,
If you’re now ready, breathe deeply and we’ll start.

You were fifteen, vulnerable and shy
Discovering life as every day went by,
Protected by the hearth of community and home,
Your world a few square miles from which you did not roam.

And then one day your confidence was shorn,
A callous act from which a pattern of anxiety was born;
Your silent tears prove anguish knows no bounds,
But I must be sure your memory has grounds.

The boy was Brett of that you have no doubt?
“The very one whose name from every rooftop I will shout.”
And yet for thirty years you didn’t tell a soul?
“My sadness couldn’t breathe from the innocence he stole.”

I’m told your friends know nothing of this day?
“I’m filled with sorrow as its pure truth that I now say.”
Your memory is shaky as to what happened when and where?
“Not a day goes by that anguish I don’t share.”

I can’t begin to feel the way you clearly do,
But looking in your eyes I see the terror’s true.
None can forgive the actions of this heel
That from his deed he could your joy so steal.

Whilst we can’t know it was the man you claim,
No doubt one did your soul unjustly maim;
Your trauma known, your burden shared
And through your truth a lesson clearly aired.

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