Her Voice

I sit in the office

Cold light and desk chairs

I hold my phone in my hand--trying to give her space, but not appear distant, uncaring

She relays her hurt into the phone

It is her voice, not mine

She has reported her story

The boy who called her away from her duties to help him clean

Who then shared wicked words with her

Neglected to hear her confusion, her quiet "no's" and visible uncomfortableness 

Who when she asked to leave, said no she had to stay and help him clean

The boy who asked for sexual favors

When her work shift ended, the fear of him and what he said stayed with her

She found her voice, and shared it with us

So now I sit in the office

Her talking to HR on the phone

Overcoming the urge to hide the shame and fear deep within and the possibility of retaliation from him

When she shares her story, she shares his actions

I look at her--a deep mix of awe, sadness, and empathy

I'm proud she has a voice

I'm not so sure I do

But she does

And when others share their voice

It empowers the rest of us to find ours