Things I learned at the refuge
That a child can be reduced to tears
By the sound of a key in the door.
That's it's easy to ask why it's hard to say
that I'm not going to take any more
That you can't get back to Kansas
simply by clicking your heels:
that leaving is hard and staying is hard
and love is as hard as steel
That sticks and stones will break your bones
but the names can hurt you too.
That cruelties can be tiny
and there's always a size to fit you.
That if someone can stop you laughing
he thinks he's won the fight;
but that laughter creeps back like daisies
given the smallest amount of light.
That freedom, like abseiling, is worth the thrill
if you're able to step out and risk it;
that nothing can stop the runaway chat
of seventeen women with biscuits.
That a nom de plume is a shield and a sword
Whether Femme Fatale or Fanny Slack;
that painting a wall or making a cake
are signs that you're on the way back.
That spider silk is not the strongest
fibre known to man;
the strongest force in nature
is telling a woman she can.
That so long as your fist can fit round a pen
The bitterest draft can be sweetened
You'll be down and out for a little while
but never, ever, beaten.
Written by a group of refuge
residents, permission kindly granted by www.jobell.org.uk.
