the real me...

Sitting at the park, feet in the sand…
This grown woman visiting with the little girl that is me…
Trying to understand what happened-
when did it become so easy to let a man hurt me?
Voices in my head at odds with each other.
The shrill voice that places blame on all my actions, “you keep making him mad! If you didn’t challenge his authority, he wouldn’t hit you, insult you, tear you down!” Blah, blah, blah…

Then there’s that other voice…she’s been there all along, always quiet, her words like a breeze thru tall grasses, soft and gentle, they hold my heart and speak to me from places deep and wild…from that place where the warrior that is me rests, where the magic that is me resides. She quietly speaks a truth profound, “You are not the fault of his anger, but, you are the fault of your suffering because you stay.” My breath catches as these soft gentle proddings prod me to gaze into my own mirror, and oh, this hurts, to see my own folly, to know I handed my power over to this shell of a man-and for what? For him to freely abuse me?

Fuck! “Shut up,” I quietly whisper to the shrill voice that chooses to blame me for his inferiority-while at the same time I pack the mother fucker’s shit and put him out, the rain that falls transcending from drizzle to downpour…karma is indeed a bitch and I embody that bitch oh so well tonight…tonight when I take my power back.

The warrior that is me is done resting and the magic I wield seeks an outlet, finally. I am free and this life…this life has been waiting too long to meet me, finally…the real me….