Compassionate witness

I’ve been deeply shaken by the stories emerging from the Epstein files.

They’ve left me feeling sad, confused about the world we live in and at times powerless.

Rather than analysing names or events, I wanted to turn my attention toward the young people who were harmed, the ones whose voices were often ignored or silenced.

This poem is my way of doing something small: of bearing witness, of honouring the victims and of offering compassion where it was once missing.

For those who were left alone

Some wounds were made in silence,

behind closed doors,

in rooms where no one came to protect

when they should have.

Some young women learned early

that their bodies were treated as objects,

that those who spoke of opportunities

were wolves dressed in sheep’s skin.

I don’t know their names.

Yet I feel the pain they carried,

the weight of being unseen,

the loneliness of having no one step in for you.

These stories have shaken me.

They’ve left me confused about power,

about how harm can hide so easily,

about how the world can keep moving

while someone else is breaking.

I wish I could do more.

I wish I could undo what was done,

or soften what can never be erased.

All I can do now is pause,

and turn my attention toward them.

I know words can’t repair what was taken,

but silence doesn’t feel right.

May the world learn to look again.

May those who are meant to protect

never abuse their power.

May truth arrive with care,

and justice be made.

And may the victims find,

in their own time,

a place where their body can heal,

where their voice is believed,

and where they are no longer alone.

Love,

Rosie x