What moved me, was not
That we were meant to be together
It was they way you offered
Your hand to be in my hand
Your palm against my palm
The way you insisted
My manhood might go headfirst
Inside of you without a sheath
Warm, like a bird caught in a snare
I shared myself with your sharing ways
You were grieving, using me
As a heart hoarse with hope
And I loved you, loved you deeply
What moved me, was not
That you rejected me, after all
I’m not perfect, it was the way
I kept loving you, and nobody else
Muscular in tenderness, from all
The abuse you once endured
I became a carpenter, carving a house
That I could never give to you.
Wuji Seshat
Wuji Seshat 
What words are left to say? Yes, it is horrible…then can you imagine what the 3 women in Ohio have felt—to be raped and abused like they were?