by Nick Gisburne
Rejected, hunted, hounded by the world,
Escaping to a dark, despondent place,
Her courage is belatedly unfurled.
Defiant, there is fury in her face.
For what was done no other took the blame.
The horror and the hate were never hers,
But, when she dared to speak the serpent’s name,
She learned at once what privilege confers.
A thousand voices spilled a thousand lies
To push her under, drowning in deceit.
The whistleblower, taken by surprise,
Was heckled into hiding, in retreat.
Returning for a fight she did not choose,
Her sword of choice, the truth, she yearns to use.
