A personal journey from trauma to creative expression, told through poetry
Liverpool has long been a city shaped by the voices of women who had to speak up long before anyone thought to listen. Irene Stuart is one of them. A playwright and poet who came to writing later in life, she discovered the power of the written word after decades spent raising two children, five grandchildren, and now four great-grandchildren. What followed was a creative surge that led to award-winning work — including Best Comedy at Liverpool Fringe 2021 — and a late-blooming artistic career rooted firmly in community theatre and the everyday brilliance of ordinary people.
Ill health has now forced Irene to step back from writing, but her voice remains unmistakably present in The Colour Purple, a poem carved from the hardest memories of her early twenties. In the 1970s, domestic abuse wasn’t recognised, named, or supported; victims stood alone. Escape routes didn’t exist. Counselling didn’t exist. Even the language to describe what was happening didn’t exist. But courage did.
A chance connection at a young mothers’ group changed the direction of Irene’s life.
Someone noticed her distress, offered help, and opened a door out of violence. She
moved, rebuilt, and went on to earn a degree and carve out a life built on safety,
education, and resilience.
For years she pushed the trauma aside — until the pandemic reopened what had been
sealed. During lockdown she joined an online writing group for female survivors, and
from that space of solidarity and honesty came The Colour Purple. It is a poem written
in the dark but aimed toward the light: a reckoning, a release, and a testament to the
women who kept going when the world offered nothing but silence.
Irene may no longer be writing, but her words still do the work.
THE COLOUR PURPLE
She waits, fear, clock ticks
captive, invisible chains
heart pounds, stomach churns
Key in door, clock ticks
anticipation, he appears
smiling assassin
Purple dress, clock ticks
lasciviously licking lips
Indicates she twirl
She shivers, clock ticks
terror, trepidation
control, power, man
He paws, grunts, clock ticks
takes herself outside herself
where unicorns dwell
Lust sated, clock ticks
stained dress, expectation
menacing, fists clenched
Punch, slap, stars, clock ticks
hands around neck, cannot breathe
voice unheard, blackness
Battered, dazed, clock ticks
purple dress, purple bruises
lays in silent pain
Child cries out, clock ticks
soothes, holds tight, kisses gently
body hurts, heart breaks
Lies to friends, clock ticks
purple bruises, door ajar
knowing glances, shame
Packs her case, clock ticks
must leave, quickly, holds child close
escape, freedom, life
Irene Stuart
