She barely noticed, as she skipped
along as a child, the bushes of ill-will.
She, being envied, never understood…
As she passed by these bloodied-bushes,
thorns scraped her legs and a thorn
pierced her left foot. She kept on skipping,
stopping long enough to pull out
the offending thorn. Forgetfulness…
When she became a woman, she never
noticed the lustful glances.
After the rapes, she noticed a gash in
her private parts. Unmourned…
Time heals all wounds. She kept moving.
The pimp-style beating, the steely-glint
of a pointed gun, the betrayal of love,
left black & blue marks in places no one
was designed to see; within her heart.
Loving again, she found mockery to be
her daily bread. These assaults became
lacerations of the mind, not the will.
When others carried away her children,
she moaned deeply, gutturally; a wounded
animal. There was massive internal bleeding.
She kept moving. Die to self is the only truth.
When she stopped to share wisdom and light,
she met deception and darkness.
Fiery comets cauterized this bleeding.
She kept moving, though her pace slowed
with age. She has flash-backs
of a thousand cuts, looks above, seeks
comfort from life’s only love.