|outside my window…|
“Life isn’t about finding yourself. It’s about creating yourself.”
how do they let them get away with it
how is it that my sister knew what he did to me but did nothing to protect me
let him get away with it.
stayed with him.
how is it that when i told my mother years later, she pitied my sister.
and they wonder why i fiercely protect myself.
and they wonder why i fiercely advocate for those who cannot fend for themselves.
and they wonder why sometimes
it takes a little patience.
it takes a lot of heart.
it takes understanding that i am a mixture of emotions, but pure deep down.
that sometimes i put on a brave face. even a tough face. an independent facade.
and i have a hard time not beating myself up when i feel ‘weak’.
i’ve learned to bury myself in my art. tumble through gardens and float through pictures and wander through dark chocolate. trip around words and feel my way through the world.
i know who i can trust.
but sometimes the water blurs in my eyes. and i get tired. frustrated. and want some help.
how to ask.
not so sure about that. did you ever want to say, ‘scuse me, would you mind taking these pieces of me and putting them back together in a new way?
i’m not asking for a handout.
i’m not being codependent.
i’m not trying to sound demanding.
but will you? will you look after my heart?
but i hear her echoing voice and i have to push it aside, move past it. it’s fewer and further between but i’m no fool. they’ve never and they’ll never. see. me.
they see themselves in each others eyes. me? unrecognizable. i’m what the stork dropped off and landed on the wrong porch.
reason. season. lifetime. i’m seeking a new lifetime. i’m seeking destination.
and all the while, the horns honk, the broken glass lands, the doors stay locked.
the daytime i like.
the nighttime? i can do without.
when it is night and it is just me, i focus my mind. it was only three years ago where i hammered locks into my windows. keep me in, keep them out.
they drank out of my refrigerator and left their crowbar in my closet. they touched my camera. they were in my bedroom. they were not invited. i’ll never know the story but my girl sent them away in a hurry on that hundred degree afternoon.
i didn’t sleep for six months. it’s how i knew that with him, i was not safe. he wouldn’t even hop a bus across town to take care of me, shaking to the core. no sense of urgency to protect me.
me? i’m a lioness. a mama bear. a ferocious tiger if you mess with those i love. with those who can’t fend for themselves. or even if you are just being cruel. i cannot be afraid when others are so apathetic. i watched them step around violent bodies and my heart cried. i used every bit of volume in my lungs along a city street and i stopped them.
because you know what?
she may not have cared about anything but herself and keeping her piece of shit husband. and i’m talking about both of them. but me? that chain has been broken for a long time. that pattern ended long ago. i may have veered in the extreme in the past, but i am at center now.
hell, i don’t know.
but i’m still here, right?
“Having abandoned my search for the truth, I’m now looking for a good fantasy.”