Musings by The Poet Loriet

Judging Lori

Judging Lori
 
I stood there trembling,
unable to look the honorable
whomever-the-hell-he-was
in the eyes as he shot streams
of questions at me,
making me feel
like an offender
when I only wanted
protection from one.
 
I felt like an epileptic,
fearing the whole courtroom
could hear my knees knocking,
heart pounding in my throat.
 
I stuttered my answers,
looking to my lawyer
for help as he nodded,
emanating confidence,
standard procedure to him.
 
Meanwhile, lives were  
being changed as
the gavel banged.
The judge bellowed,
"Granted!"
 
I should have felt--
I don't know--
relief?
accomplishment?--
but I didn't...
 
I felt incredibly
 
alone
 
My legs became heavy,
as if they were shackled,
making it difficult to
place one foot in front
of the other.
 
I shrank down on
the cold heavy wooden bench
surrounded by
 
noone.
 
Sobs silently shook me.
Suddenly, I felt so small,
insignificant.
 
All around me,
life went on as usual,
and I moved numbly
through the core  
of the activity.
 
I'd been judged,
but not understood.
 
 
Lori Beal


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Judging Lori

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