Saying Goodbye

It's never easy saying goodbye, especially when you're saying goodbye to the "old you."  But that is exactly what I'm doing (and have been doing for the past 3 years).  It's a grieving process I had to go through in order for me to completely move on.  Forgiving myself has been the toughest, uphill battle.  Forgiveness; containing many levels, is a process I am learning to move through with the least amount of resistance as possible.  I cannot forgive everything he did, but I can learn to move on and look toward the future.  It's just better that way. 

So, goodbye to the scared girl of the past.  The one who hid from everyone, including herself.  Goodbye to the negative self-talk that creeps into my head.  There is no room for such blasphemy.  I now know it can be far more abusive and destructive to criticize myself in such a way that I limit my own progress.  I say goodbye to the restrictive thinking of my future.  Why not dream as far as the eyes can see? Maybe even a little further.  Quantum physics fascinates me, so why not play with it; picture that awesome picture of my future?  If we can picture it with our mind, we can have it in our reality.  I say goodbye to the pain and depression.  My writing will always help me weed through the despair.  I say goodbye to holding things in.  My silence is golden but it can also be a double-edged sword.  Words of the heart left unsaid only leave a trail of regret. 

My journey is not even close to being complete.  In fact, I've only just begun to get to find the very core of me.  I actually gave myself a time limit on my own grieving.  Healing comes in stages.  I've learned to accept each stage and learn from it.  I say goodbye to the girl that felt the need to compare herself to others.  I am unique.  I am proud of my progress.  I am proud of my willingness to grow and learn.  I'm most proud of my own self-honesty.  You'll surely see dark poems or blog posts.  It helps me to write about it.  To talk about it.  The more I do, the more healing it all becomes.  I don't break down in tears or go numb.  It releases the inner pressure.  I'm feeling so much better.  I'm in a far better place than I was 3 years ago. 

Naked Soul

I bare it all

Eliminating resistance

Letting my soul

Become

Exposed

Unafraid

of the

Perception 

What's With Walt?

Just what was Walt's problem? Walt Disney, that is.  Oh.  Don't get me wrong, I'm a sucker for his movies, but if you really sit down and analyze them, a whole new perspective can be had.  Bambi.  Mother deer shot.  I'm not a hunter, but I would've gone for the rack on that male deer.  Comprende?  Snow White and the evil whoever she was that fed her the rotten apple. Is it just me or does anyone watch that movie and think "Surely someone else in this movie deserved the rotten damn apple"?  Cinderella.  Sweet Cinderella with the evil stepmother and the spoiled rotten step sisters.  Are ya gettin' my drift here?  Women.  All women.  Personally, I like Jerry Lewis' movie "Cinderfella". 

It's late and I need to go to bed.  But not before I added this tongue-in-cheek post about good ole Walt.  Who, by the way, was a genius.  Still, I ponder, what's his deal?  ;)

Dressing Up a Toad

Go ahead
If you must
Dress up that toad
Lipstick bleeds
Blush recedes
The toad
Is still
A toad
I love fairy tales
I think most girls do
But tell me to kiss a toad
I'll check your head
Probably stomp on your shoe

Gathering

I don't gather leaves
While the wind is
Still blowing
I quietly step out
Of the center
Let the leaves
Fall as they may
The wind will
Surely stop
I and
My trusty
Rusty old
Rake
Will wait
For the wind to
Settle its temperamental
Meanderings
Gathering more leaves
Than I would
Had I started
While the wind
Was still blowing.

It

It
Has a name
Narcissistic Sociopathic Abuse
It
Entails
Emotional
Mental
Physical
Sexual
Psychological
Abuse
It
Keeps growing
With 3 women
Suffering right now
As I'm writing this
But the statistics
Keep changing
That number has probably
Grown to
More
The monster likes to be fed
With fear and isolation
Growing more sadistic as
The victim becomes wiser
Escape is the only answer
I'm absolutely convinced
There are those among us
Without a soul
How else to explain the
Constant need to see such
Physical despair?

*You more than likely won't hear of a victim speaking out as it's happening.  From what I've seen, it's the survivors brave enough to bluntly call out the utter disdain.  To shout from the roof tops, "This is insane."  Yet, it keeps happening.  The more we talk, the more aware everyone becomes.  I'd love to sprinkle glitter on this and make it all nice and pretty.  Seriously, though, you can't pretty up ugly.  It would be like trying to put lipstick on a toad.  I make light of some things.  I hope to holy doughnut holes it grabs your attention. 

May I Never Feel Rested

In this one instance
May I never feel rested
As though the job
Is somehow complete
It is not complete
Until all voices
Have been heard
There are many
So many
Tormented souls
Crying from the inside out
All walks of life
With no racial or economical
Lines of demarcation
The prettiest face
Hiding some
Unspeakable
Disgrace
Or the ones we see
Walking with the
Black and blue
Badge of his dishonor
Marking a face
Like claiming some
Blasted territory
Animal rights activists
Get more attention
And certainly
Shouldn't we all be
Protected from
Animals?

Things He Couldn't Take

He took my kisses
Threw them back at me
But he couldn't take my heart
My soul
The very core of me
He silenced my voice
But my hand kept writing
My head a steady stream
Of poetry
My prayers were silenced
He found great joy in that
But God heard anyway
Turning dark dreams into light
He took my body
Only the outer shell
Too shallow to dig deep
Into my wishing well
Afraid of what he'd find
I'm guessing that's his Hell
He took part of my pride
Only a small part
If you're keeping measure
It's my courage
My passion
No one can take
That's the most greatest pleasure
My thoughts were a confused
Stream of his meanderings
The greatest control
He held
Now I'm away from it all
Clearer my thinking
Instead of backed into
My own wailing wall
He never took my hope
My vision of a brighter future
The wounds may be deep
But the scars are all sutured

Virtual Bonds

I watched him go
A sadness in my heart
The uncontrollable
Behind the wheel
I sat down with
Heavy-laden heart
Feeling my world fall apart
A constant need to
Protect
My lovely son

A lovely thing happened
While I was clearing my head
Devoiding myself from dread
A virtual person popped up
A survivor
With such a drastic tale
We instantly bonded
Repinning our tragedy
Into virtual
"Hale, Hale"

Eldest She-Warrior

She greets with a smile
A tinge of laugher
But through slanted eyes
Watches the wayward traveler

She is the eldest warrior
Watching over her daughter
Offering her best advice

She does everything
In sequence
Sometimes repeating the pattern
A warrior
Stomping her feet
Before resting her tired head

She checks the door
Then checks it again
To keep the darkness
From slipping in.

The Elder Warrior Consulting with Her Daughter

My mother continues to astound me in so many ways.  Her short-term memory is shorter than a list to a 5-n-dime store but hurt her babies, she'll make war.  This is a woman who lost her husband to an unexpected death and then gets a call from her daughter telling her in no uncertain terms she and her newborn baby are leaving a narcissistic abuser and "Pick me up right away."  A woman diagnosed with Parkinson's who shouldn't even have been driving in the first place.  But hot damn.  There she was in the dead of night like a beacon of light.  Fast forward to the present, three years into this ridiculous battle, and she carries her tomahawk; swinging it proudly.  I used to nearly bite my own tongue listening to her listening to my abusive ex; giving him hugs, no less.  Now I see a whole new side.  Sure she smiles politely.  And mutters some ineligible sarcastic comment referring to him under her breath.  He leaned in today and nearly shouted in his overbearing tone "What was that? Did you say something?"  She smiled sweetly "You better watch yourself.  You're in my house and she's my daughter." 

The visits have been ending earlier and earlier.  Mostly because Tot asks to come back home.  My mother danced and sang and did her she-warrior dance "We're coming to the end of this.  You know that, right?  He doesn't know how to entertain or bond with his own son."  She sat down on her throne in the living room and pointed her finger at me.  Laughing.  Telling me to keep doing whatever it is I'm doing because "quite frankly.  It's working."  What I'm doing is ignoring the mind games and emotional warfare.  I've learned no comment is far better than any screaming match against someone who wants nothing more than to see me lose control.  I've learned that smiling to someone who only wants to see tears or anger is a far better and more healing response. 

So tonight, as Tot finally went to bed at a reasonable time, mother and I discussed the very near future.  I personally savored this sweet moment of clarity.  She'll say the same things over and over again and "I love you.  I'm so proud of you" is among my personal favorites. 

The Child Will Decide

I reminded him of his visit
A change in his routine
Christmas Eve and Saturday
He looked straight ahead
Declared
"I don't want to go"
I held him tight
Reminded I loved him
Reassured him that
Could tell me anything
"Go and just be you. 
Always remember love.
It's what we do"
He nodded
Held me tighter
Whispered
"I love you"

*We sat and continued watching the rest of King Kong.  I sat & pondered his words.  The first time my 3 yr old Tot has voiced his refusal to see his dad.  His dad pulled into the driveway, Tot put on his coat..stomped in the direction of the door and muttered "Again? I have to see him again?"  By the time he actually reached the door, he made his decision. He turned to me "I'll be strong. Like King Kong."  I had hoped there would be more of a bond, but there clearly is not.  My child knows how to make his own decisions.  I proudly instill this in him.  I'm getting a picture of what the future entails and I tell you right now, I'm not worried.  Not nearly as much as I expected to be.  He will decide when he absolutely no longer wants to go.  I won't push his decision.  I know this all sounds weird.  I just know my child.  He's so much like me.  He needs time to think about everything.  A bit of an introvert.  Push the introverted child or person and everything falls amuck.  He knows and trusts that he can tell me everything.  More importantly, it's what he doesn't talk about that is more telling.  And that's when I fill him with more reassurance.  As I've mentioned in earlier blog posts, nothing abusive is happening during the visits.  It's just a bond that is not being filled.  My Tot knows it.  It's as if he goes now because it's his duty.  While I wait and watch the clock to strike 6:30.

Christmas Eve..Eve

I've been away from my fledgling blog.  Living a life that now has a life of its own.  My Tot & I are moving along.  Both learning the ropes.  Tomorrow my Tot will be away spending time with his dad.  So many things my boy is learning and moving through in his young life.  He now has separation anxiety.  To fix that, I have taken to going to bed when he does.  He stays up way later than your average 3 yr old and I have racked my brain trying to figure out a way to get him to go to bed when other toddlers go to bed.  You know what I surmise?  The boy is so much like me, he's going to do it his way.  No matter what.  On a completely selfish note, it works quite well going to bed during the work week at 9 pm.  10pm at the latest.  I get up at 4:30 am Monday through Friday.  And now my boy does too.  Go ahead and scratch your head and wave your finger in my direction.  Kids are so much smarter than we adults.  He's figured out he can spend more time with me by waking up at the crack of dawn.  He's forcing me to take care of my tired spirit (going to bed earlier than an 80 year old). 

So here we are.  This week off.  Time to bond.  My Tot got so flippin excited he literally made himself sick.  I don't know about you, but I'll be a happy person if I never see goldfish and grape juice on the flip side of an upset stomach.  This was the first year I was able to watch him build his snow man.  I missed it last year because of work and I cried for a week.  It's a milestone much like walking, talking, and laughing for the very first time.  I was able to watch "Despicable Me", "King Kong", and "Mighty Joe Young" with him.  Him.  Curled up by side.  "Save me, Mommy.."  That's his cue for me wrap my arms around him while we snuggle on the couch watching King Kong defeat the blasted, ignorant dinosaurs.  I still have 3 baskets of clothes to fold but nap time wins precedence over that every single time.  3 hour naps and I ain't afraid to brag. 

Santa whispered in my ear last month to buy his presents and wrap and hide them promptly.  So.  I complied.  Thank God I did.  A mountain of bills don't measure the wonder on his little face as he looks at the Christmas tree telling me over & over what I should tell Santa what he wants for Christmas.  Last month, I was really in the dumps.  Now? I am excited.  Christmas music playing in the kitchen as Mamaw and Tot argue kindly on the best way to load the dishwasher. Tot and I fairly agree that bowls belong on the bottom rack but that is so beside the point. 

So tomorrow, my oldest brother and his tribe will flounce around this house.  Our voices will carry into the next neighborhood.  We're German and Irish through and through.  We hug, argue about the tightness of such hug, yell in absolute disgrace, hug again, eat, watch mindless T.V., tell the same stories, and argue about the telling of these stories.  Tot, like he did last year, will take mental notes and meet with me later. He'll laugh and talk endlessly about his favorite cousin.  We'll both go to bed with sugar plums dancing through our head.  Christmas day is mine to spend with Tot.  We'll laugh.  And laugh a lot. 

You Will Love

Truth be told
You will love
If it happened
Once
It will happen
Again.

The Longest Nights

The longest nights are not
Sitting alone
The longest nights are
Those nights
Awake
In someone else's dream
Without hope
For reality.

Winter Moments

It'll be a long
Cold winter
If you sit
Looking at
What you're missing
No arms for hugging
No lips for kissing

Oh, the long
Cold winter nights
With the chill
Settling in
Don't spend it
In regret
Or basking
In sorrow
For the days & nights
Will just keep going
Enjoy each moment
They are given to you
With great care.

Gray Wolf Summit

Hidden from view
Tucked between the
Mighty peaks of
Mt Olympus
A place where reality
Slips away quietly
Nature
Resting comfortably
The safe zone
Where the
Gray wolf
Can roam.

Ode to Nanette

Gunslinger walk
Rough voice
Brash talk
She reminds me
Of me
Get her alone
Safe
In her comfort zone
You'll see the lines
Melt
Smiles sweetly
Talkin' about babies
All their future maybe's

It was on my worst day
She caught me off guard
Her voice dipped
To a husky growl
Eyes flashin'
Smile sparklin'
She told me of the day
She left
Him

There in our concrete cave
Our conversation becoming
A warrior chant around
Our invisible fire
It was sunny that day
But by the way we laughed
Somewhere
Someone
Felt our thunder
Felt our lightning

Noticeable

I'm fine
She said
Then tipped
Her head
Tears spilling
Down her ashen cheeks

Why ask
When you
All ready know
Maybe some kindness
To show
That you truly do care

Closed Door

I said hello to the
Dark void
Again
Only this time
It really
Pulled me in
I knew better
Looking that close
At the past
Before you know it
You're lost
That's the crux of it
The sheer Hell of it all
I knew writing about it
Merely to tell you
Could possibly take me back
To the Hell I had escaped
And it did
But not as far in as it
Would've liked
Before the demons could
Clutch my skin with
Their steely claws
Light seeped in from under
The closed door
Proving to me
Light will always find a
Way to enter.

Velvet Verse

Night surrounds the poet
Words gently landing
On stark white pages
It is here, in the cover of night
We write
The soft verses
To ease the senseless curses
Harsh parlay of the seemingly
Endless day
The words
Caressing the hard edges
Velvet

Chaotic Lines

Crossing the
Chaotic lines
Drawn in the
Continually
Blowing sand
No line is ever
Complete
Blurry vision
Looking into the
Sun
Making footprints
In the sand

Litmus Test

My warrior lawyer said it best, "It's a test the court must do.  They won't know the results until the litmus paper is dipped in the chemical..."  The litmus paper being my son and the chemical my ex.  I sound cynical here.  Truth be told, I'm tired of being cynical and anxious and angry.  Maybe everything will turn out all right.  January will bring forth more answers.  Time for me, personally, to meditate and pray.  At this very moment, I feel as though everything will work out so much better than I expected.  I have my days, but right now, I feel relaxed.  I've worked hard to get to this point.  Many times I thought of giving up.  Came dangerously close to shutting down both mentally and spiritually.  Tonight, however, I'm reminded of the time I first found out I was pregnant.  So many people around me said it would never happen.  My little mind kept imagining my baby, though.  So on a Saturday night, much like tonight, I locked myself in a tiny bathroom and performed my own litmus test.  Never mind that the 20 previous litmus tests all came back astoundingly negative. That night was special.  I almost threw the test in the trash before the results were complete.  And then, there it was.  A faint, blue line.  Vertical.  Positive.  The dreams leading up to that moment all made perfect sense.  So much like they do now.

I study my dreams like a meteorologist studies isobars and cumulous clouds.  My dreams are so positive now.  Vivid and in color.  No more black and gray (for the moment).  My near future is happy.  Better than I could even dream about.  I wake up now with a sense of hope.  I'm not too selfish to say, I need a lot of hope right now.  Some dreams are so vivid, I have to actually remember this life I'm living in right now.  The fact that they're coming more frequently now is just beautiful to me.  On days where like last week, where I was lost in some kind of despair I can't even put into words, I remember my dreams.  It inspires a lot of my poetry.  Which opens the door further.  Because you see, my dear friend reading this lil ole blog of mine, in my dreams I'm also talking to editors and publishers and hammering out a book deal that will blow your pretty, little mind.  Don't think for a minute I'm sitting idly by on this in my waking moments.  All things coming in patient moments.  The waiting well worth it.  So.  Here I go.  Patiently waiting the moment.  Praying for only the best.  My son is thriving.  I don't think there's anything that can stop that.  Not while I'm alive.

The Long December

December cast her
Cold, steely gaze
On me
Her eyes
Slowly blinking
Foretelling moment
For the
Long
Cold
Days ahead
Snow came quick
To vanquish
The warmth of summer
And she
She just smiled
Her frosty breath
Floating in the air
I'm forced
To rush inside
Wrap myself
Under my warm
Soft
Blanket
Counting my blessings
My dearest of friends

Suspended Moment / Caught in a Dream

It was near the end
Of the dream
Mere moments before
My mind
Became
Fully awake
Walking alone
Steps following a pattern
Not noticing a thing

Around the corner
Beneath the stairs
The Indian chanted
Knowing
I would slow my steps
Turn
To notice him

He was familiar to my soul
I
Feeling immediately comforted
Amongst the vast changes
Taking place and
Many more still in waiting
His presence
Beckoned me
To feel the moment
Slow down
Pay attention.

Dreaming

It has been so long

Since I dreamed

In this sort of way

No longer shrouded in

Darkness or

Cover of night

My dreams are now

In full color

Bright as the day

Full of light.

 

 

 



Call Me Needy

I need you now
More than ever
Holding tight to
Our bond
Not wanting to sever
Maybe I ask too much
Or simply not enough
The cuts of this life hurts
Praying my soft edges
Aren't really too rough
You'll shake your head
Say I'm not alone
I know God is with me
But this room
Feels so cold.

The Letting (Poem)

It's a cold, cold day
When I let it all out
Dripping
Piercing
Words on a page
Bleeding out my story
Letting out
Letting in
Watching emptiness
Spin

It's the letting
The double-edged sword
A choice that cuts deep
Slicing me in two
Wondering how deep
The push
Of the silver blade

Lonely is the cut
Knowing
Sympathetic eyes
Can only do so much
Alone to face
The sword's deepest thrust.

The Letting

3 years.  How much more can I take?  Quite a lot, it seems because it still goes...and goes.  The letter came in the mail last week.  Bold type this time, so I wouldn't miss its point "We are reviewing this case in detail for a pending overnight stay.." I frankly stopped reading and threw that blasted letter away.  I panicked.  Found my son playing innocently in the living room.  Banging trucks and making highways with cardboard pieces.  He looked up at me and smiled so sweetly.  My heart jumped and melted all at the same time.  The court is letting my ex trial an overnight stay. An ex with an abusive past, a current drug addiction, and an unstable emotional stance on life, overall.  The court is reviewing the "importance" of further future drug testing. Migraines and nightmares started immediately after receiving that letter. My son's safety is in judicial hands that blindly trust the outcome will be an outstanding success.  I, on the other hand, have my well reasoned doubts.

January is the next court date.  Time for me to prepare mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  That court document made me feel abused all over again.  I have to get my thinking straight if I'm to move forward.  From the court's stand-point, "He never abused your child."  Then there is all the fine proof of his anger management classes.  Excuse me if I sound a little bitter here.  One workbook with a couple of sentences written about how he feels better about the world does not, in my mind, mark him as healed.  The court simply does not know him like I know him, or how my son is beginning to know him.  No he is not physically abusive to our son, but he has an abusive tendency.  Tendencies which stretch further than merely physical.  My son is 3.  And he's all ready beginning to see. 

My tot is bumbling and happy.  He says please and thank you and gives hugs to make the boo-boo's go away.  He's smart.  Very inquisitive.  And he remembers minor details that surprise me, given his young age.  Once a week for 6 hours my son visits with ex.  At the start of the unsupervised visits one year ago, tot handled everything exceptionally well.  That was, unfortunately, a short time. He quickly transitioned into questioning, worry, anxiety, even anger.  Now?  Now is even worst.  He comes home quiet. It takes a little while before I can get him back into his comfortable routine.  It's a blessing that he can now talk to me about the visits.  The most I can get out of him is that he's not allowed to really be "him." Play time is different.  Reprimands are different.  He's dropped off at grandparent's house once in a while during these visits while "Daddy drives errands."  They sit and watch T.V.  So, basically, my tot is bored.  No big deal, right?  I question where the bonding is in all this.  My son does too.  Often.  He questions everything, as any normal 3 year old would. 

So the overnight will happen.  And I will let them...after I am assured there will be routine drug tests.  At least for however long the court deems appropriate.  I do have a say in this and I will stand up for the safety of my son.  I've skimmed over details about my ex because I'm pretty much numb to all of it right now.  I know him.  The court has no clue.  Not like I do.  I don't want my son to see the worst.  To be exposed to an environment where I won't be immediately at hand to help or quickly protect him.  It's this final "Letting" stage that is tearing me up right now. But as one lawyer explained to me "You have to let it happen.  The court needs to test how both your son and ex will react to an overnight stay."  Her advice and encouragement stay with me and keep me strong.  Along with a select few friends who are emotionally strong enough to let me completely vent and tell them all the gory details.  That lawyer understood my stance in this.  She, herself, was in an abusive relationship and had to face the very same thing I am facing now.  Like they say, you will never completely understand unless you actually lived it.  So what did SHE do?  She let it.  She let the visits become more and more extended.  She let the overnight stay happen.  She let it all sink in that, sometimes, we don't get to control all aspects of things we most want to control.  She understood my fear of letting my son stay with my abusive ex.  She basically told me how I would spend that night.  "You're not going to sleep.  You will stay close to phone and worry uncontrollably.  Let it all happen.  Roll with your emotions but stay strong.  And demand a phone call before your son goes to sleep that night.  You want to be able to hear your son's voice for possible changes...fear, anger, etc.  Voice inflections that are not normal for your son."  So I will do that.  All of it.  Demand further drug tests, demand a final phone call to say good night to Tot;  demand the court to respect the precarious balancing act this really is.  It's not just me that must go through all of this emotional warfare.  Now it's my son.  It's always been my son, but now he's really blossoming and soaking in more information. 

And still I want to cry.  I want to be able to promise my son that everything will be all right and I simply can't.  My ex will never be dependable.  Not emotionally, or otherwise.  This, I have learned.  The hard way.  This is what I don't want my son to learn.  It's a lesson no child should have to face.  It goes much deeper than me not being able to tuck him during that overnight stay, or kiss his cheek and hum a lullaby.  It drives deep into the heart of me.  Will he be safe?  Will ex be able to handle Tot's crying?  Will he be able to handle the emotional outbursts? 

This Place

It was the most delicious sleep;
wrapped in the deep chambers
of dream.  Talking with people
I only recognize in this
fantastic dream; in a place
that takes my breath away
just thinking about it now.
I was laughing. Rich in love.
A feeling of belonging.  Not
that I feel like I don't
belong now. This place.
Oh, this place was home.
My home.  Nothing temporary.
Nothing ordinary.  This place
gave me a sense of peace. I
carry that dream with me now.
Bring it out in my mind's eye;
like  lovingly looking at a picture
I will forever cherish. If only for
a dream. This place.

Poetic Moment

Surrounding myself
With my words
Losing myself
In the verb
Shutting out the
World out there
Wrapping myself
In the poetic moment
In here
One of my greatest escapes.

Just Cause

You have
Just cause
To recreate you
Just cause
To hold back darkness
Keeping only the light
You have
Just cause
To laugh
Far more than you cry
To walk away from
That which
Brings you down
You have
Just cause
To put yourself first
You were nothing before
You are everything now
You have
Just cause
Just because
If for no other reason
You deserve
Only the best.

Healing

Don't rush the healing
Focus on feeling
You've come further
Than you realize
Making the first step
Is never easy
Expect a stumble
You'll keep getting back up
Knowing
You'll never fall
That far again
Get to know you
You've hid from her
For such a long time
Learn to laugh again
The sound will delight you
Dive into your soul
Take a deep breath
And dive again
Soon
You will learn to swim
The further away from
Dark tides you get
The more it will seem
Like a bad dream..
Just a dream.

Lovely One

Tell me what he did to you
Little, lovely one
You can tell me all
Or just a little
I know what you're feeling
I've been where you are now
Just take your time, lovely one
The pieces are all undone
But if you allow it
They will fall back together
A broken heart
Allows more light to enter
Someday soon
You will look in the mirror
Admiring the strong, beautiful
Woman that you are.

The One

How dare I
Dream about love
Dare I say
The infinite kind
My heart's been shattered
At least, that's what
Everyone tells me
And I almost have a
Notion to believe 'em
But my mind won't stop wandering
This patient soul preparing
Mental pictures creating
Vivid happy scenes.

My soul reserving a spot
For the one that was
Meant to be there
All along.

Warming Heart

Through these
Hallowed out
Dark walls
Light enters
Through splintered cracks
Shining past the
Heartaches
To the beating
Epicenter
Warming the cold interior.

Kindness Matters

Take care, my love
Caution
The push
The shove
Not everyone is against you
Allow kindness
Let it be your
First and
Best friend.

*Note to myself.

Muted Shades

I have nothing
If only
My words
My poems
My dreams

All that I had
Stripped away
Slate wiped clean
I stand in the
Muted shades between
Reality and Fantasy
Waiting for the two
To become one
To far exceed any
Expectations
I dare imagine

Death Call

Death tapped lightly
At her
Young
Innocent
Clean
Door
5 years new
Older sister knew
Young parrots will
Replay everything we say
And so the call was answered
Little baby blue
Smoking her first joint
Whilst learning her kindergarten lessons
But that wasn't enough
There was more light to snuff
10 year old
Gets brave
Gets bold
Decides heroine would
Give a better dance
Lighter under spoon trance
But even that got old and dirty
So by the time she's 30
Meth has lifted her to a new high
Her husband preparing for the
Goodbye
32
Eyes no longer innocent and blue
She danced with death at such a
Tender young age
Thought it would be ok
Older sister did too, by the way.

* Pray for the lost souls. I wish this poem was some figment of my imagination.  Unfortunately, it is not.  This poor soul never stood a chance & simply did not know better.  If older sis was doing it, it must be ok. Right?! So wrong, on so many levels.  We're all a little broken.  Some more than others. Her story forced me lend a kinder thought and a kinder perspective on her situation.  Tonight, my prayers go out to all broken spirits and lost souls. 

Cherishing a Moment

These are the moments
I cherish
Cling onto with
Breathless awe
Moments when all
Thoughts of my past
Escape me
Moments where only
Glimpses of my future
Filter into my tired
Non-resistant soul.

Persona

I stand in amazement
The transformations
Surrounding me
I don't say this smugly
I'm looking at a newer
   version of myself
It's taken a long time
To recognize myself
To see the familiar
Stranger
Hiding within
I've studied her
Tried to run from her
Now I welcome her
Liking what I see
Finally.

Unexpected Plans

What are you gonna say
At the end of the day
Did you get it all done?
Everything you planned?
Or do you walk in the
Occasional fog
Faithful your steps
Won't fail
That sometimes things
Won't go as you planned
Sometimes
It works out better.

Body of War

I was a different person then
I would do anything to stave off
A fight
Cry and scream
Slamming doors
Hide in my silence
And then there was my body
The better weapon
It ended many fights externally
But ravaged my spirit internally
I used everything I had
Painted on a mask
Until I became unrecognizable
Even to myself
Until I could no longer stand
To look at myself
Until I started to
No longer matter
My body was my
Weapon
My last defense
Against nonsense
  and even that
  no longer made sense.

Touch of Love

I couldn't stand to be
Touched
For the first few months
Unexpected hugs
Made me cringe and
Die a little on the inside
Loveless hands
Left a mark on my soul
Ugly words
A path so dark
In the deep recesses
Of my mind
Always looking for the
Ulterior motive
Instead of the
Kind gesture intended
I learned early on to
Push back
So I pushed
Pushed people away
Only a scant few
Knew
Arms that never tired
In their loving force
Wrapping me in
Gathering me close
Speaking to me in a
New language of love
Until it no longer sounded
Or felt
Foreign.

A Lesson Remembered

Don't you dare forget
Not all of it
That moment you fell
Learned to pick yourself up
Walk on your own
Think on your own
Breathe
On your own
That moment
You learned to live
There's nothing wrong
With remembering
A lesson should always
Be remembered.

Good Girl

Good girl
Raised in a good home
With good rules
Good talk
Good schools
Good girl listened
Watched as the rules
Would bend
Noticed how the
Good talk
Did not always
Walk the walk
Silently watching
It all
Taking it in.

Stand up straight
Don't wear this
Wear that
Why are you
Wearing that hat?
Pull your hair back
No
Wear it down
Smile more
Mommy doesn't like
To see you frown
Smile pretty
Mommy needs
A good girl
No questions dear
It's the questions
Mommy doesn't like to hear

What was that
You said?
Critical voices
Creating the person
I'd some day dread.

Now That You Know

And now that you know
You know
You know
You know
Where do we go
We go
We go
We go
Won't you please
Enlighten me
Tell me what you see
Will I just fade away
Turning blue skies
Into gray
Or will I reach the sun
Touch the surface
Colors run
Spectral colors bleeding
Stormy clouds receding?

Birds of a Feather...

I won't ask you to stay
Though it sure would be nice

I know you're busy but
You always manage to
Find the time
Stopping to listen
This tangled heart of mine

You never budge
Or
Haven't so far
I fairly think I could
Tell you anything and
Still you would listen
Never batting an eye
Never condescending

I don't ask you to stay
Because you're all ready here
You floated in
Quite unexpectedly
I think the North winds
Were blowing that day

I perched on my little branch
Loving to watch you fly
My wings broken
Thought I
Persistent
Patient
Consistent you
Casually pointing out
That I could
Still fly, too.

Your Eyes

I could get lost
Looking into your eyes
Amber
Glowing
Faintest tinge of green
Your eyes tell a story
I never grow tired of hearing
A story I know
You don't often share
That's quite all right
You need not say a word
It's all right there
There
In your beautiful eyes.

Let Go

Holding on
So tight
Darkest
Wrong
Clearest
Right
Rope stretching
Thin
Hands aching
Fisted
Gripping
Not wanting
To fall again
This rope
Sole possession
Frayed ends
Time to
Let go
Free my hands for
More
Substantial holding.

Perceptual Time

It's taken so long

To get to where I am

Yet, it's only been a

Fraction of a second

Time

A perception

A creation in the mind.



Inglorious Truth

"Oh, thank God.  It's finally done
You're healed
We can move on."

She clapped and
hugged me
But later
When I cried
When the rest was
Still undone
She snubbed me.

Stand Up

He knows the old me.  The "me" that was scared to stand up to him and when I did, I quickly apologized.  Over and over like a sad mantra. The "me" that would do anything to stave off a fight, a lecture, a word beating, or an emotional roller coaster.  He learned all about me.  He knew I avoided conflict and would put my all into anything I set mind to. He made it his mission to build me up and later tear me down.  It nearly worked.  I'm still the type of person that needs time to process new information.  I like to evaluate and speculate before I speak. Knowing that, he would always break my train of thought; keeping me confused.  Mind games.  Emotional warfare that came unexpectedly. Preying on my internal process he viewed as a weakness.  He treated me like an errant child; laughing at my fears of our broken relationship.  Laughing at my sadness. Just another tearing down method of my self esteem that always made me second guess my "big ticket issues" with him.  I would end up questioning whether I was really upset - "was he right? Was I making more out of this than was actually necessary?" These are the questions I would constantly ask myself.  My internal battle.  That was then.  This is now. Now I'm away from his madness; his narcissistic mind that constantly demanded to be fed praise from a self-defeating partner.

Yesterday, he stood at my door.  His smirk.  His patronizing tone.  I didn't yell.  I kept my voice just loud enough that it forced him to listen.  I laid out my issues.  Pointed out my concerns and told him to stop.  Told him.  Never asking.  Never apologizing.  I have nothing to apologize for.  Asking him to do the right thing is pointless.  Telling him is much more efficient and effective.  My tone held a warning.  He has far more to lose than I even realize.  He knows this.  He laughed and like speaking to a child I simply told him the laugh was inappropriate.  He continued some senseless conversation and I simply closed the door quietly and casually.  My greatest victory, to date.

I have the choice.  All of the choices, really.  I can choose to argue with him and feed some of his psychological need to communicate with me in a negative way.  Or, I can choose to end the argument.  I can choose to remain stressed and have my hair fall out and spiral down in some pathetic sense of myself.  Or, I can choose to keep calm - knowing this will all be over soon.  I can choose to sit back and let him run his errant mouth and do his thoughtless deeds.  Or, I can choose to continue to stand up to what I know is right.  I choose my sanity.  I choose my calm.  I choose to stand up. 

The Path is Not Always Straight

If I thought my life would somehow get easier, I was mistaken.  Sounds melodramatic, right?  It's true for all of us.  Life keeps going.  A straight and easy path that's always predictable is not the kind of life I want.  I want the surprises.  I know there will good days and I definitely know there will be bad days.  The path has many twists and turns.  There might even be junctures that lead off that true path.  It's all a lesson.  Inner evaluation always leads us in the right direction.  As long as we're willing to be honest with ourselves.  That's the key.  Not everyone will see your progress.  Some will criticize you.  Keep walking.  The path is narrow.  Don't stop just because you can't see past the bend in the road.  Follow it.  See where it takes you.  What if you do fail or meet the wrong person?  Your past helped paint a picture of what was wrong; what you should walk away from.  It also helps paint more clear a picture of what you do want; what is absolutely right. In this lifetime, we will gain and lose friends.  The "Narrow Path People", as I like to call them, know how important it is to cultivate all aspects of a relationship.  They won't always agree with you but neither will they belittle you in their disagreement. They won't understand completely what it is you might be going through, but they're willing to listen to your perspective.  They may not be able to take away your pain but they share your pain.  The fine art of appreciating empathy and sympathy.  Sometimes it's ok for someone to feel sorry for you.  Even better if they empathize. 

 My life, right now as it stands, is so unpredictable.  A far cry from the dreary predictable world I was living in.  New surprises for new horizons.  I've met a lot of nay-sayers.  I've met the overly judgmental.  Ahh, but I've met some of the most beautiful souls who show me a better perspective. 

Oceanic Soul

Suspended
Holding my breath
Preparing for the next dive
I swore I'd never
Enter this ocean again
But it's the ocean where
I thrive.

I long to venture out
Past the coral reef
Into the calming depth
Or
Crashing waves
Swim with the knowledge
This ocean is mine.

My soul is as deep as
The ocean
If not
Deeper
I'll swim every depth of her
Or spend a lifetime trying
There is irreverent, infinite
Calm in this ocean deep
Treasures of my soul
Priceless treasures to reap.

PTSD

I haven't publicly told anyone I have PTSD.  Only a very select few knew prior to this post.  It's so hard to write about now. Why? It's silly, I know.  As a society, we can talk about our sexual encounters, demeaning rape, grievous suicide - and then there's domestic abuse and its subsequent PTSD; the subjects most don't want to think about let alone talk about. I didn't at first understand what in the world was wrong with me. Now I do. I've known for quite some time.  It literally comes and goes like the wind.  At first, it came unexpectedly.  Now I know the precipitating factors that lead to the spiraling emotional roller coaster.  Thankfully, the symptoms are less and less. My coping strategies are rather quite simple. I'm doing one of them at this very moment. Writing. It separates me from my mind. Sometimes I hide too much inside.  Writing lets it all out. Wikipedia and the WebMD say it's not a disease. It's a disorder. I kinda giggle when I write that. My "So there!" stance. A disorder is manageable. I can laugh about it now. Like when I get in an awkward situation or place full of awkward people, I openly say "Oh no. I have to go. My PTSD is kicking in. I need to burp." It's funny, but darn if it ain't true. I also have GERD if you're keeping a secret list.

It isn't that I'm making light of any of this. It's that I now have the freedom to make light of this. The exhilarating freedom to laugh it off. That was so not the case 3 years ago. This has been all about me learning about me. Diving into my oceanic soul and discovering the depths. I've learned so much.

Angels Sleep

Take a moment
And just breathe
The worst is certainly
Over
But the journey is not
After you cried
Burning tears
Yelled at the moon
For shining too bright
After you shake
Your fist
Or stomp your feet
Remember
You need your sleep
Tuck your wings
Tightly in
Rest your halo
On that soft pillow
Your wings are
Not broken
Only a miniscule clip
Soon
Very soon
You'll be flying again
Silence that voice
Inside your head
Your perspective is all ajar
I think it's time
You go to bed
Don't fear the night
Don't worry about tomorrow.

Remember when you
Were young and
Carefree?
Racing across the moon
And counting sheep?
Let this moment be similar
You are an angel
And even angels
Need their sleep.

Beautiful Boy

I'm so proud of my boy.  My courageous tiny tot.  He's gone through it all with me.  It's surely been a lot.  Daycare at 12 weeks old; never once complaining.  Doesn't matter if it's sunny, cloudy, snowing, or raining.  He had to learn fast; the boundaries to help me stay sane.  Learn them he did and I'm learning the same.  We sing happy tunes; dance and read a lot.  I have such a smart tiny tot. He looks to me for reassurance during the long journey requiring massive endurance.  Reassure him, I surely do. And you know what's so sweet? When I do, he always says "thank you." He's not perfect, but then again, neither am I. It's the precious moment of putting him to bed.  When he wraps his arms around my neck and whispers "I love you, Mommy" and lets out a sigh. Yes.  I think I must be doing something right.

Cherishing These Moments

I must be doing
Something right
My tot
Laughs and plays
Such a happy little boy
Making new friends
Learning so much
So fast
Like him
I'm soaking up
These moments
Before it all
Becomes part of
The past.

I've Come Too Far to Stop Now..and random thoughts

There are times, like now, when I want to just stop.  Tell the court, "Do what you will.  I won't be coming to any more of these hearings that take time out of seeing my son and work." I can't.  I can't do that.  I have come to the point where the judge actually respects me, no matter what my splintered thoughts may tell me.  There are a thousand things I can worry about.  I choose to hand it all over to God.  There is a reason this is all happening in the order it is happening.  My way isn't necessarily the best way.  God has a Plan.  I'm trusting that Plan.  In the meantime, I write to excavate my soul its ravaging thoughts. I pour my heart in these poems I write. Do you know, I started writing poetry when I was 6. Really got INTO it when I was 12.  Read Shakespeare and Walt Whitman when I was 14.  Dreamed of (and still do) being published every single day that I can remember.  It's not just a passion.  It is part of me.  It's my soul.  Somewhere along the line, I allowed other people in the past to cloud my view of myself; of what I knew was right for me.  I stopped writing poetry in my 20's.  I allowed it to leave.  Gave some hob-shob silly ass excuse and called it quits. Life works far more mysteriously than we even realize.  In the middle of my most traumatic storm, the words came back to me.  The dream..arrived so suddenly, it stunned me.

I slowly started writing again before I ever decided to leave my nightmare. I dabbled with beautiful words. Thought fantastic thoughts far beyond my REALITY. Strength kept building.  I started to read again. Sat down and actually enjoyed escaping in a good, take-your-breath-away book.  I started to actually fantasize what it would be like to be a mother.  I know that sounds strange.  I mean, an abusive marriage and I was fantasizing about bringing a little one into the mix? That's something I can't explain. The more I tried to push the thought aside, the more the fantasy played its fantastic mind images. My son's conception was nothing fantastic and no fireworks went off that night, that's for sure. I just know that as soon as it was over, I heard a voice inside me say "And so it shall be." I knew at that very moment I was pregnant.  Strange, right? It's true. My dreams immediately changed.  I was a mother in all my dreams. A happy mother.  My body started changing immediately. So there I was, in the middle of the worst possible life storm.  Pregnant.

I felt a calm surround me. The harshest words he sent me couldn't shake me. Nothing rattled me. I no longer cared if he stayed out all night and all the next day. I stayed calm to keep my baby safe. I hummed.  Thought about my future. And when the day arrived for my son to be born into this world, I knew there was nothing in this world that could stop me from keeping him safe. I raged back home to my family in the middle of the night and my greatest blessing started at that moment.  I was free from the relentless criticism.  I  was free from the verbal onslaught.  I no longer had to worry about the physical abuse. It was far from over, but I felt very liberated at that very humbling moment.

I started doing the things I enjoyed.  I found myself laughing again. Even though the sound of my own laughter sounded strange at first, the point is, I laughed.  I talked to friends and family.  Told them everything I would allow myself to tell (which was a lot).  I talked to God. Not just prayed to Him. I talked with Him. I decided to dig down deep, find the root of my own problem, and fix it before it could happen again.  My self-esteem was in the bottom of the toilet.  I had to fix that.  I did a lot of positive self-talk. Slowly, but very methodically, changed my way of thinking.  I couldn't fix him.  I could only fix what was broken inside of me. 

To some, it may sound silly. To the poets of the world, it sounds normal and healthy...I found my poetic words again. That is my greatest joy, besides being a mother. I have a voice.  No matter how slow the court is, I know they're taking this seriously.



                                     

Ask me...I'll tell you..

I never shy away from anyone's questions about my "situation." I would love it if someone would ask me how I would change the laws on Domestic Violence and violence against women.  I think it's asinine for our court system to expect the victim to sit next to her perpetrator in court during any and all court proceedings.  I feel it's a gross injustice the court sends me out at the end of the court proceeding at the same time they send my perpetrator out...both to walk to our car. Wouldn't it be better if the court allowed a 15 minute window to safely reach my car and leave the parking lot without fear of being followed? Yes, he knows where I live but during a heated debate involving visitation, I think safety should be the forefront in the court's handling / thoughts.  Sadly, it's not.  Ask me how I feel when the judge laughs and makes jokes right along with my perpetrator about future drug testing.  Nothing is funny about "my situation"-- especially while I'm sitting in a court proceeding deciding on the best and safest situation for my son.  Ask me how I feel when my ex husband, who took 18 months to even consider visiting with his son, hands over an anger management work book with a few scribblings; the judge smiling and sending him accolades.  Yes, it's very good he's trying.  However, if I were the judge in this case, I'd demand a workbook with proof from the anger management counselor that he is attending on a regular basis.  It's also very nice my ex is going to church.  He was able to show a post card with a message written by the minister.  A minister that quite frankly does not know him.  That being said, if I were the judge in my case I would be writing down the phone number of that minister and getting a schedule of my ex's religious counseling outlined for future reference. 

Ask me how I feel when my 3 year old comes home after visit "wired for sound".  Worst.  He comes home confused and frustrated.  He still can't put into words how he feels but he shows me.  It worries me.  Ask me how I feel about the court's demand for my son to spend the night with my abusive ex (a known drug user, as well) in the very near future.  I had to fight to get the court to consider having a social worker do a future home safety evaluation.  And I'm still fighting to remind the court that this is the only way I will feel halfway comfortable with an overnight visit.  Unsupervised.  In a known drug neighborhood.  Ask me how I feel about the court's refusal to have a social worker from the state to work with my ex and document his progress.  Isn't that what my (and your) tax dollars go toward?..at least a portion of it, anyway.  The judge in my case is "overly sympathetic to the financial responsibility of" my ex's ability to pay for future drug tests. That's all fine and dandy.  But how the hell is he able to pay for the crack he so desires? He gets that money very easily.  He's working...at least that's what he reports to the court.  This shouldn't be rocket science.  He's a known drug user whose drug of choice is crack cocaine.  Why do I have to demand a monthly drug test?  When, in fact, I would much rather see a bi-weekly drug test. When my ex openly laughs at me and claims he can go to Wal-green's and get a "piss test and piss in front of her if that'll make her feel better," my stomach churns.  The judge did not let that happen but the fact that these comments are allowed is completely unacceptable. 

Some say I should request a new judge.  I have.  The request was rejected.  At least my feeble request reminded the judge that this is very important to me.  My son's safety is in the forefront of all my thoughts.  At this point, I have been in and out of court proceedings for three long years with the same judge.  A new judge may only stall out any kind of progress that is hopefully happening right now.  One thing I am completely sick of hearing? "You are 1 in 500 cases." Tell that to my son.  Tell that to my family and friends who worry right along beside me.  Tell me that one more time and I'll tell you to shut-up.  My case is my case and it's #1 to me.  Period.  Yes, there are worst cases out there.  Yes. They are all important.  My judge seems to think it's important and the circuit clerk thinks it's important every damn time they send out a reminder of the next court date.  I am not a case number.  I refuse to be treated as such. 

First, and foremost, for me personally...I am a survivor.  I refuse to be treated as a victim.  The above suggestions should be standard proceedings in any and all domestic violence cases involving visitation between child(ren) and perpetrator.  I should be able to go into that court room with complete confidence my state is handling my case with respect, dignity, intelligence, and safety.  Not so much to ask for, is it? Yet, I have to ask for all the time.  Every single time.  And I'll keep asking / demanding this. 

Voice of Pain

I pay attention to
The screamers
The loud
Demanding-to-be-heard
People
With tears in their eyes.

I handle my pain differently
More quiet
Introspective.

All in all, dear one
Pain is pain
Hearts
Crying
And it's always a shame.

Disbanded Sisterhood

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One would think

We'd stick together

Raise each other up

During the highs & lows

But that is not always the case

Only a very few

Hold the sisterhood

To heart.

 

The others

Can be so

Criticizing

Looking for blame

In the heart of

Sweet laughter

Esteem so low

No sense of self.



Tango of Thought

I'm not a man-hater
But I do find myself
Cringing under the
Thoughtful
Male
Glance

Defensive
Pensive
Drawing into myself
Internally backing away
Not out of fear
More of a guarded thing

When the glance
Becomes more
I dance a
Tango
Circling around
Quietly musing
Asking the question
What could this
Possibly be?

Heaven in Room 521

He held him 10 minutes
The day our son was born
Then left like a vanishing wind.

4 blessed days
3 blessed nights
Alone with my
Precious one
World outside quieted
World inside slowed
Infant son & mother
Alone
In our snow globe.

Delicious, renewing sleep
Watched as nurses
Pampered & fluffed
Listened & watched
In awe
To his breathing
Peaceful sleeping
Inquisitive new eyes seeking.

I had no idea when
The storm would begin
Surely, I knew it would arrive
Sooner
Rather than later
But for those precious days
I was in a peaceful haze
In a hospital with my new son
Heaven
In room 521.

Choices

I learned the
Fine art of
Silence
Probably at an early
Young age
Criticizing tones
Harsh voices
I lived in a
House of love
I just didn't always
Agree with their
Choices.

Night Terrors

During the day
I could pretend
Paint on a smile

It was the night
The dark, deep night
That gripped me
Ripped me

I would fall asleep
Soon it would happen
Night terrors

Running
Caught in places
I should never be
Hearing razor-sharp voices
Taunting me

Days and nights
Quickly becoming a blur
Begging for rest
Blessed sleep
Peace from  the
Nightmare that
Was always
2 steps
Behind me.

Preparing to Fly

In the middle of
The worst part
Of the harshest storm
Pregnant
Motherly instinct
Evident
My voice remained calm
For even in the womb
He could hear me
I'd steal away
To the quietest
Of places
Talk to him real slow

"Mommy's going  to
make  everything all right.
Right now, my sweet,
sleep tight."

His kicks inside me
Would gently slow
I felt him relax
As I hummed a lullaby
Soft
And low.

Domestic Survivor

There was no handbook
No grand word of advice
Thrown into the judicial mix
Left to my own device.

"You're 1 in 500 in this
county alone.  Chances are
you'll go back.  Studies
have shown."

True though it may be
I was numb
I cringed at the slap
The implication of
Being dumb
I did not originally set out
To make a point
Yet I sit here today
Reliving a tale
To anoint
There are others out there
With tales more haunting
Not just me
Our voices  will rise up
We will be heard
The abuse will stop
You'll see.

Screams in the Dark

That night
Went by in
Slowest of
Slow motion
Time enough
For me to think
As night crowded in
Cold
Dark
Dank
Fist planted firmly
On my chin
Time stopped
My screams did not
There was no plan
Only thoughts of immediate escape
Gathered up my
Infant son
Into that cold, dark night
We would run
My mother greeted me
Her eyes beseeching me
Into the car I fell
She did not ask
I did not tell
Eyes red-rimmed
Face ashen gray
My eyes told a story
My voice could not say.

If I Told You...

If I told you I was
Married twice
You'd be shocked
Then again
Maybe not
The first ended
In his suicide
The second started
My long and
Painful ride
Abusive words
Abusive hands
On my spirit
Engraving
I thought he was
A soul
Worth saving
Twas not my job
The rest I put
In the
Hands of God.

Gatekeeper's Daughter

Penny for your thoughts
Nickel for your time
If you want to enter here
You'll have to pay a dime
She's sleeping now
Miss needs her rest
Walk softly
No time to jest
If your intentions are true
A map you will not need
Tame a wild heart?
Your footsteps will thunder
Take heed
Restless is her sleep
She's almost awake
You might get lost trying to find her
It's a gamble only you can make
Rich in spirit
Power in mind
The only tools you will need
Whisper into her soul
Make that your good deed
Waste no time
Do not loiter
She's seen that kind before
She is the Gatekeeper's daughter.

Fire Within

She was 20

Going on 43

She wanted to escape

Feeling free

She gave her heart

Shut down her mind

At the risk of a love

She may never find

Her soul now trapped

Passion tamed

He offered the escape

He could not be blamed

Trap now set

No path for her feet to be met

But the fire burned

Dreams they flashed

As words & hearts

Tangled & clashed

Planning

Waiting

She'd become the student

Lesson learned

She left on a strange cold night in July

Taking with her the last match

To light her own  fire

To clear the weeds

And plant the seeds

To climb the mountain that

No longer appeared to high.



Unveiling

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These words  are my diary

 

Exposed to you

 

My written word

 

Void of masquerade

 

The only place my subconscious mind and

 

Conscious mind agree

 

Not to hide.

 

 



SHE

SHE
Whisked out of the court room .  Bright, silky turban splashing color in the cold marble room.  A smile was on her face.  Neither boastful nor conceited.  A smile that said, "If I were to die today, what a good day to die." A lawyer.  A warrior.  Battling cancer.  Offering her services free of charge.  Protecting the abused from their abuser.

SHE
Wrapped in tattoo art; flouncing her proverbial tomahawk in a room of silent onlookers.  Young.  Brash.  My mind could not help to think "That's why he chose her.  To break her strong spirit."  But she was so young.  Couldn't have been more than 19.  Oh, then she spoke.  Voice cracking as she cried.  A sweet, songbird voice "I just need this to be over.  I want him to stay away from me."

SHE
Sitting on the court room bench.  Arguing with her mother.  A mother fighting to understand yet begging her young daughter to lower her voice and "calm down."  She did.  Lower her voice.  To a husky growl.  Calm down, she did not.  Looked to be about 16.  Definitely the youngest I have personally seen.  Her demeanor was poignant.  There was no doubt in my mind she would be ok.  She brought her own law to the court room.

SHE
Soaked all of this in on that day.  As she waited for her judge to appoint his decision.  3 years into this battle.  I imagine she could invite her judge over for Thanksgiving dinner.  Such is the respect her judge tirelessly awards her.  She talks about it now like it's some other person's story.  I don't know.  Maybe it's just easier that way.  Having left her abuser, she fights tirelessly for the safety of her precious son.  This last "SHE" is me.  Committed to building awareness on intolerable violence.