9 Hours

~ 9 Hours ~ By ~ Merope ~


Did you love me?

When you found me?

Led me?

Cut me?

Bled me?

9 hours.

Drugged behind your door.



Did you love me?

When you bruised me?

Beat me?

Bashed me?

Crushed me?

9 hours.

Cradled by pain.



Did you love me?

When you loved me?

Raped me?

Broke me?

Left me to die?

9 hours.

Violated by love.



Still begging.

Even now.

For you.

To stop.


Photography/Artwork by Dewin Nefol: https://dewinnefol.wordpress.com/



8 thoughts on “9 HOURS

    1. Hey PSJ,

      Welcome back friend of Raven’s 12. It’s wonderful to share your company here again. Thank you for your visit and comment.

      Merope’s poem is deeply effecting, their words a reality always lingering within, a horror they are never able to leave behind. And so they ran and kept running, hiding in obscurity amongst others who have no name for the perpetual pain that haunts their every moment and maintains addiction.

      It is an absolute tragedy to hear of another backstory such as this. All at Raven’s 12 were very moved by this poem and have sought to embrace Merope within our fold where we hope they will find decency amongst the living to help restore small semblance of normality back to their life. We are always much stronger as One.

      Thank you PSJ. Hoping Easter brings brightest blessings to one and all.

      Take care.

      Namaste 🙂

      DN and Raven’s 12


    1. Hey John,

      A delight to have you join us once again. Thank you as always for your support here John, and the kindness of an impacting comment.

      Horrors, terrors, tragedies such as this are raw realities of life. Such darkness occurs on our streets and in the homes of everyday souls behind closed locked doors, and often much of it goes unknown. It is not until one is confronted so directly by this level of brutal truth that the reality is appreciated far further. It is overwhelming, powerfully stirring. Sadly Merope’s story is not unique amongst the Homeless. It is all to easy for someone who has never known Love to be misguided by the sweet promise of it only to find extreme violence and terror waiting for them holding love’s shattered arrow.

      We pray for Peace, Love and an end to Suffering for all. And until then we hold on to our friendships and to each other with great care. It is all that we really have.

      Thank you again for visiting. Wising you brightest blessings over the Easter Weekend.

      Take good care of one and all friend of Raven’s 12.

      Namaste 🙂

      DN and Raven’s 12


  1. This is a heart wrenching tale.. which I wish was drawn from imagination rather than experience.. So much untold agony and pain inflicted in the name of love.. And even when those 9 hours have been escaped from.. The tortures of the mind repeatedly replay

    This is a very powerful piece of writing from Merope. I hope their writing out of such pain helps heal those inner torments..
    Torments unless you have experienced such, we whose lives have lived in security and love have no idea of what harrowing ordeals others have been through that they Run and keep on running, fearing and never trusting..

    I hope you can tell Merope how courageous they have been in opening up and allowing this poem to be shared published here..
    Behind ever face on the streets.. Is a story… And it is time for others to listen.. And come to understand each of us are not so different. And there for the Grace of God we all could be walking in their shoes..

    Wishing you warm thoughts Raven’s 12 this Easter..

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hey Sue,

      It’s always a pleasure to welcome you to our sleepy field, we do so enjoy your generous company. Thank you for visiting and commenting with sincerity. It is a very impacting and affecting poem, powerfully moving, brutally honest, direct and blunt. It burns deeply and lingers.

      (If I may I’ll reply as Dewin Nefol)

      I imagine I am not dissimilar to many folks who have led relatively decent, honest, stable and traditional lives wrapped and protected by a blanket of love and security. This is the world that we have come to know, a place that we generally understand and feel able to successfully negotiate. It is also a world that for all intents-and-purposes maintains its superficiality and illusion, its charming visage with great effect…our lives are not unnecessarily troubled, our security relatively certain, our opportunities presented for the taking, and adequate provision is made to satisfy our leisure and entertainment. Few would wish to ever step off this one safe path that runs through a perceived ideal. I too thought that until employment in Welfare Provision brought me into direct contact with a demographic profile that I had never truly involved myself with before, a world that had mostly existed ‘elsewhere’, somewhere far away beyond my sense of contrived safety. Day 1 in the new job, 9.30 a.m and I’m sat with my mentor beside me when a young girl wanders into the office and takes a seat before us. She had just turned 15 and was estranged from mum and dad because of their violence and drug addiction and currently under the ‘care’ of Social Services. My mentor knew the young girl from a previous occasion and whilst gesturing towards a man waiting outside next to an expensive sports car opened with the comment, “I see you are back on the game again?” to which the casual response was, “yeah but only ’til I get myself straight. He’s cool…I only get the decent clients.” She ended with a smile that never belonged to a 15 year old girl but someone much older. It was un-natural, rehearsed and practiced, too perfect and in direct competition with lines around her dark tired bloodshot eyes and the several nervous glances she made towards the window. It was quite an introduction to the hidden life found when stepping off the path.

      Three years on from this encounter and I am still working in Welfare Provision: everyday I get to read about the suffering and despair that others endure in their lives, which only exacerbates still further my growing sense of impatience at the injustice of a failing Welfare System that provides breadcrumbs to the most vulnerable whilst those that decide on what is ‘fair’ stuff themselves full with privilege, fat salaries, second houses, expenses, and other trappings that come as standard by way of public office, self-effacement and blatant arrogance. I see these people sometimes wandering about with their flash suits, blue ties, black hollow eyes and supercilious smiles. I have little time for any of them or their peers, puppeteers and shady paymasters lording it up in ivory towers and demanding subservience from us all. Such arrogance fills me with loathing and contempt and has essentially promoted my involvement with Raven’s 12…it is as much a physical response to the travesties that I see daily as it is a way of permitting injustices and personal expression to be heard…Art being one of the last great bastions of free-speech remaining, and that no doubt still subject to subjective interpretation as well, anything to ensure that the truth is not heard.

      I was first introduced to Merope several weeks ago when they submitted a poem to Gallybloggers called Night Lights. I did not have chance to engage with them on that occasion, the meeting being brief and quickly concluded. I was told after the meeting that Merope had ‘history’, a back story that they wanted to share but didn’t feel ready to do so….for them it was a matter of trust, trusting me who is not one of their community. Stories are shared within the homeless community but ‘outsiders’ don’t get to hear them unless invited. However, Merope and I met with another friend also present and shared a little time talking about Gallybloggers and the poem. The story was relayed to me so matter-of-factly that at first I found it difficult associating their commentary with the intensity of the words in their poem. It was not until Merope broke down shaking with tears whilst they held tight to the friend with them that the true extent of their suffering was revealed. Their pain, the look in their eyes felt like a hot knife being slowly pushed deep into my heart, it burnt me, and still burns me to dwell upon it for to long: one cannot forget so readily the experience of hearing another’s soul cry out in pain. It is overwhelming, more psychologically bruising than anything I ever have encountered before. We cried together, shared a coffee and parted with an long embrace, our feint smiles making bold attempts to appear on faces still wet with tears. I did not return to work for the last hour of the day.

      Courage and fortitude are expressed in a myriad number of ways, from the hero who saves the day to the soldier returning from war limbless intent on rebuilding their life, but face-to-face, I have still never met anyone quite as courageous as Merope before, nor someone with such a gentle and deeply loving heart despite all they have gone through. The human capacity to experience and express Love leaves me speechless.

      I will be only to happy to ensure your caring words reach Merope. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt how warmly your kindness will be received and how your words will help support and encourage them. Please know that the absolute delight I see on smiling faces and in twinkling eyes is priceless, the whispered almost embarrassed ‘thank you’ is endearing until the very last letter. Your kind and loving words are truly effective and really can help to change lives.

      Well Sue, a pleasure as always, but I must away and get the day started in earnest. Bank Holidays are so rare these days (!) and one must make the most of time away from the coal-face. I have a long list of chores and must-do’s to attend to, so I shall leave you to the beauty of another wonderfully sunny day and look forward to welcoming you back here again next time. I hope you’ll find chance to sit awhile in the garden. Keep an eye open for feathers, I’ve a feeling it might be a lucky day 🙂

      Until next time my good friend, take great care of one and all Drummer Sue.

      Namaste 🙂

      DN and Raven’s 12

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Your words touched me deeply Dewin.. that a tissue is now full of salty brine..
        And yes, having worked in support to those with learning disabilities s and mental conditions. Some of their case files takes a strong stomach to see the abuse of those taken firstly into care as young children from the hands of so called protectors that call themselves parents, was also a hard pill to swallow.. That one could do such things to their own..

        Which is why I so understand the mental scaring goes far deeper than any knife wound to the skin.
        It is there in sleep and nightmares, it bubbles to the surface in gestures and in phrases..
        Which is why I know the courage, and the amount of trusting to share..

        I commend you Dewin.. for the trust building… Not an easy task as this is the first hurdle we who give support need to achieve.. Failure in this is unforgivable in their eyes For being let down is what many do.. Let them down.

        So Merope is a Mega star in my eyes.. for sharing their story in such a profound deep personal way. The rawness of it should be shouted to all of those in their ivy towers.. And all should be made in my view to spend a week on the streets.. No income.. no shelter.. and see how when they reach out for a helping hand they feel when shunned and turned away..

        My heart cries daily for those whose lives are so full of pain.. And were it not for my garden, my art, my music and knowing there are many who like you reach out that hand.. I think at times I would break..
        Which is why many times I need to energies.. focus… knowing that Good far out ways the bad, despite all that we know and see..
        I will keep believing in Angels feathers and invisible protectors and those kindly souls who go one step further than most to help their fellow man in times of need..

        Thank YOU.. Dewin.. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJ_fkw5j-t0&index=9&list=PLD0B913A290B9F1A3 I am listening to this piece at the moment.. And it fills my heart with Hope..


        Liked by 1 person

  2. Anyone who has ever experienced abuse will be moved deeply by this. What struck me was the brevity of the poem ~ in so few words, so much was communicated. And my heart wept for Merope, for I couldn’t help but identify with their pain. In all my years of nursing, I was most touched by those who had been abused. The writings here on GallyBloggers have put me back in touch with an old wound that has never healed. My gratitude to all of you for not only sharing your thoughts and feelings, but also for evoking similar feelings in us ~ emotions that must be dealt with, no matter how painful, in order to heal and grow. Bless you all 💜💜

    Liked by 2 people

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