I bar the door. This home, my only sanctuary wrestled from hell freedom I birthed, nursed and hard-won. Barefoot on wood, my tread heavy To the fridge swollen heavy with love washed linens, tulips soft pink evening dinner’s simmer. But the bins I take down a careless breach. I step out- and a predator slides in will he spare me? Or carve my body piece by piece a spectacle of violation? Lock the doors, one-room cage they demand my death let it be the work of a vampirical murder-ess, then. Her hunger, a woman’s claim. No man in my home.
This poem explores the feeling of safety within one's own space, and the terrifying vulnerability that can shatter it in an instant. What does it mean to create a "sanctuary"? and if you step outside, even for a moment, will a predator come in?
The ending offers a defiant choice in the face of violation. I would love to know, what do you make of the speaker's demand for a ‘vampirical murder-ess’ and her refusal of a man in her home? What does this say about the nature of fear, control, and reclaiming power?
Please let me know in the comments!
I had a lot of fun writing this one.
Hope you’re having a fab day,
Jas
<3
your ability to craft a story in such a small space is spectacular <3
Fascinating piece.. feeling safe at home is important.
It reminded me of things I read where women were speaking about their fear of delivery guys and the fact that a quick easy meal for me can be a trauma trigger and dangerous situation for someone else.
Heavy stuff but it’s important to question our own sense of security and try to foster it.
Hope my comment is of value, lovely writing as ever ☺️