She tells her story,
one I would never have imagined
and I felt compassion like none before.
I can’t pretend to understand
because I don’t
it isn’t my place
to pretend to understand
it isn’t my place
to know what she felt
my place is just to hear her
to listen as she tells–
as she writes away the nightmares behind her eyes
I listen to the tears behind her words
the tears she shows no one
I listen to the shame she unjustly feels
for not being stronger
for not telling sooner
my place is what I make it
and in listening to her story
I can take some of it from her
lighten the load
her weighted shoulders carry
my place
is to let her know the best I can–
I am here
listening to all you have to say
and I will be here two steps behind
as you walk through life
determined to find strength in yourself
to shoulder the burden
of what was unrightfully done to you
My place
as I walk behind her
is to ease the load if she will let me.
