I walk with my head down. My hands cling to my tattered skirts as I try to cover the bruise on my leg with the remnants fabric. A passerby may mistake the tear for an ornamental split in the side of my dress, but I know better. My one small stroke of luck is that there are few others around so late. Less spectators to bear witness to my shame.
My hair is unbound and blows freely in the night breeze. It is well past midnight, and the cool air makes my tears sting against my skin. At this time of night, the only source of light comes from our twin moons.
My eyes lift to the heavens, and I utter a silent prayer to my celestial parents. Ki’konia, grant me grace. I’Ono, bring me strength. May your wisdom and guidance help me to survive in this beautiful and cruel world.