I am not just meat to pummel and knead;
I am flesh that wakens to a gentle touch,
A flower opening to the soft caress of morning sun,
Petals unfolding, gently, as the growing warmth draws moisture from a dewy lawn.
I am not your friend if you hear not what I say,
If you close your ears to things that do not fit with your desires.
And if I dare speak and yet still feel alone
Then, as petals fold in fading light, I shall close my beauty to all who watch in silence.
Slowly, slowly, I shall wilt and die.
The peace and trust that lies within all cherished things will shrink
Like leaves on autumn trees, as cold creeps close around us.
The flame that warms our souls will wither where love once was and touch was soft.
I am a flower whose petals bruise.
Remember that when next you come to me.
Watch Criminal Justice, BBC 1, 9pm.
It's a powerful story.