Strength lies in the tears she holds back and the grinding of her teeth as you look at her, touch her, call her, place your hand on your back and run it lower and lower - there is strength in the silence, although it doesn’t seem there should.
Strength lies in the smile she gives to you when you peer into her eyes, asking if she’s okay, begging her to trust you when you both know she shouldn’t.
Strength lies in her words at the witness stand when you laugh T her. When you do lay off the truth with a joke about a beer but she’s screaming out loud and her eyes keep pleading and she’s crying for belief that she knows won’t come yet, not from them anyway. There is strength in the hope and the want for justice.
Strength lies in her heart and her mind when she finally walks down the street feeling safer than before, like she can do this and not break, she can do this and stand up straight, she can do this. She can do this. Because she has strength. Because she IS strength.