Time and Again

Through ragged and raspy breath, she begged,

"Please, don't do this,

please"

and

hanging her head

she sent silent prayers to her otherwise occupied gods

then waited for the end to her suffering.



Seconds later she opened her swollen eyes

and found him

mouth open

gun drooped

passed out

in the chair before which she knelt.


Gently and carefully,

like a mother who strokes the hair of her sleeping child,

she removed the weapon from his hand

then her shoes so she made no sound;

she grabbed the car keys off the dresser,

her purse from off the floor

and stepped,

miraculously,

out of the door

and into freedom...


Over the next few months
she will feel rage
she will know fear
she will go to court and tell most of the truth
she will lean upon her friends and tell them all of the truth until
she can no longer bare to look at the horror
she will make plans that are different from the way she dreamed her Life to be
she will be strong

And then,
he will call
telling her how much he misses her
how much he misses their children
especially the children
he longs for them and their pure Love for him
He will remind her of the 'good' times
speak to her of the importance of family
cry to her of how wrong he was and how sorry he is
and she will listen
for his voice sings songs to her heart
it always has
perhaps
it always will

In a few weeks
maybe a month
he'll drive up with all his belongings in tow
and she will find a place for them
in the bedroom closets and drawers
she will place his underwear in the washer
and cook his meals
and laugh when he swings the baby through the air making him beg
do it again daddy, again!

And I will stand at my kitchen window,
just across the street,
and watch the coming and going.
All the while, I will remember the bruised cheek,
I will recall the blackened eye beneath its concealer,
and I will watch, over time, the smiles fade
as things return to normal

Safe in my kitchen I will wonder what I can do
besides bear witness to this tragedy.
But no solution will emerge.

At night, my dreams will be filled with violence
from which there is no escape,
Upon my nightmarish awakening
I will rush to the kitchen window
just to make sure that everything across the street is,
at least,
quiet.

Looking out across the pavement I will pray for her
and, of course, the children; then,
remembering that I am a Loving being
I will pray for him.

Standing, hip against the counter
wondering if there is any chance for peace in this world,
I'll make a cup of weak tea
and sip it
as the sun rises
soft and pink and almost new.

Commentary
Having witnessed this over and again I no longer have blame or shame for anyone involved. My mother, my friends, my father, my enemies - all have done this dance. Are there better choices to make - you bet your ass. But, people do the best they can. We struggle, cry, fall down and get up.

The best thing to do is to tell the MF the first time he tries to dominate you, to kiss your big (or small) behind and get to steppin'. But, it doesn't always happen that way, does it? Sometimes we don't make the best choice until our youngest is 16 (like my Mom) and sometimes we never get to make the good choice because that trigger is pulled.

I spent a lot of years being angry at everyone because of what I witness(ed). I've realized that my anger, real and valid though it is, changes nothing, contributes nothing, erases nothing.

Witnesses have a special responsibility to tell the truth and, I hope I have done that successfully.

I do pray for the kids in this situation , I witness their pain and my tears are for them as much as for my friend. But, I have decided not to judge her. Her choice may well be the wrong one, it may also be the one that keeps her alive. The dance is delicate and has little predictability in it. Did you know that violence typically escalates when a woman leaves?

Fact: Violence against women effect 3 to 4 million women in the United States every year. They are beaten by their husbands, ex-husbands and male lovers.

Fact: About 75% of the calls to law enforcement for intervention in domestic violence occur AFTER separation from batterers. Half of the homicides of female spouses and partners are committed by men AFTER separation from batterers.

Leaving does not necessarily make it better. I wish it automatically meant that things would change, but it doesn't. So, folks, what do we do?

Poem Speak

I.
Once I hoped,
no,
longed for your Love and touch.
I yearned, prayed, dreamed up your Love for me.

Today,
I find no reason for trading promises with the gods;
have no desire to wrap you up in my needs.
Maybe,
just maybe, I have finally grown-up.

II.
I like the way we fit;
the feel of your lips on mine
the sparkle of your eyes as you hold me
the ease of my Love for you.
I like these things,
for they make my Life richer.

A comfortable old chair, you said,
and I bristled at the metaphor.
But,
when all is said/thought/done,
that is how we are.
Worn and weathered, though not nearly broken or done.
We are experienced and time-tested.
We are living the lives we have tossed, planned and fallen into;
Loving those that fix us in our time and place and,
mostly, we are happy,
while mostly,
we are apart.

III.
How strange to feel joy in your absence
when I have known such boundless joy in the swell of your bare chest.
How odd to look forward to the next time
without a care for when that might be.

You are my enigma,
my soul mate
(though I know you do not believe that such a thing might exist
or, perhaps, simply don't believe that I am yours)

You are my unresolved fantasy
and I still float on air
remembering the crinkle of your smile.
I fall asleep to the thought of you
and wake up to the same.

51 circles,
22 cycles of hope
that someday I may know with you the kind of day-in-day-out-teeth-brushing-ass-wiping Life
that we have lived with others.

I don't see the path that leads us there but,
I hold the faith that we may yet find it.
I don't take the time to wish with all my heart any more,
but my soul still holds a place
for the possibility of you and I.

I never really know all of what you think or feel;
Such a mystery you have been
and so you remain.
But, I know your Love for me
and
I know my Love for you.

What else can a Life desire?
What other words can a simple poem speak?

Driving Through Life

The title sounds far more philosophical than I feel, at this moment. My car, a solid 1997 Saturn has hiccuped and coughed the past week. I've been concerned about its wellbeing for awhile but, now, I'm afraid I will have to invest a dear amount of money to keep it happy.

I suppose after 11 years it is not too much to ask that I spring for a few parts and attention. I am however, one of those Americans who has lost real income due to the economic downturn (which started 8 years ago with the tech stock adjustment and has been squeezing poor and middle class folks since) fueled by increases in gas costs which has lead to the increases in everything else.

Smart though I believe myself to be, I jumped off the high paying job train in 1991 and have never quite recovered financially. My choice, and I certainly have to take responsibility for that one. Unfortunately, it is compounded by the poor choices made by those powerful politicians who decided that war and the prosperity of a few were more important than the well being of the citizens they were sworn to serve.

As I listen to the campaigners I have a sense of disgust at the way those in and aspiring to office handle politics and the running of this country. It would be sad if it wasn't so damn frightening.

All that being said, I have to decide what to give up in order to have a functioning car. I should probably buy a new one but the idea of signing up for 4 - 5 years of debt sends a chill up my spine.

I'm complaining and I do apologize. I'm just get tired of not having enough. I can do without the frivolous and even laugh at myself when I am lamenting the loss of some indulgence. But it pisses me off when the basics, like a reliable transportation vehicle seem beyond my grasp.

And yes, I do realize there are many folks worse off than me. It makes me wonder why we are not revolting against the callousness and greed that drives our economic system. What is the carrot that we so easily chase rather than look around and say this stinks and we need to change it?

Well, if the timing is right, I'll have some work in June that will create the down payment for a new car. If not, I'm not sure what I will do. Mass transit in this city is virtually non-existent.

I suppose, if all else fails, I will just carry-on. I'll patch up whatever breaks and keep moving as best I can. That's all a girl can do, isn't it?

She's Going To High School

Well, the decision is made. The woman-child will go public. It was a difficult decision and I let her make arguments for both possibilities. Her arguments were good (she is a debater, after all) and it was clear that her heart and Spirit were with the public school. She actually said "I think I'd be more comfortable (in the public school) and that would make it easier to take more risks; to try more things. There are a lot of things I want to learn about, you know."

For some it might seem insane to let a child influence this decision so deeply, but she is very special and I trust her Spirit to know what is best for her. Both schools are excellent and highly selective, though the private clearly holds the prestigious name. The public wins national honors in writing each year and that is the special program she is entering.

In some ways it is hard for me to turn down a huge scholarship like that but some other child will benefit and it will be the perfect school for them.

Well, that's our news for now. B-t-w, England pics are coming I just need the weekend to get it together!

Later Gators.

Castles, Sheep and Green

Our Spring Break trip to England was filled with joy, family and fun! Paul gave us a beautiful glimpse of his Life and a tour of his homeland.


We traveled from Loughton to Worthing with a few stops in between. The girl-child and I became known as the ducklings because everywhere we went we could be seen trailing behind him, cameras in hand. Through alleyways, up the greenest hills and in and out of castle rooms we followed his lead and were treated to wonder after wonder, as a result.

If you have occasion to read this, Paul. Thank you for one of the best times - ever.

It was a whirlwind of a week and we have pics galore, memories to last a good while and hopes to host his family on this side of the Atlantic one day soon.

On another note...
I am once again a very proud momma! The woman-child made it into one of the most prestigious and sought after private schools in Atlanta. As is the way with teenagers, she has decided she does not want to go and would rather spend her high school years with the good friends she has made in middle school.

What I know is that she won't see much of them in class anyway because of the special program she has been accepted into in the public high school. She'll only have classes with the other kids in that program. It's a little heartbreaking because I know she will miss her friends a great deal, though I'd like to see them spend time at our home at least once a month. She has met some wonderful children over the past 3 years.


While in England she mentioned that she wanted to be a diplomat and I tried to explain to her that that doesn't just happen. You need recommendations from congressional reps or senators and the kinds of connections it's hard to make in public school.

Reasons for her to go private are many. There are also reasons for her to remain public. A greater sense of belonging, for one. She's done fine not having the resources that her schoolmates have so far, but if she makes this move she will be going to school with kids whose parents are the "captains of industry". Not that I have or would ever try but, there will be no way I could compete when it comes to parties, gifts and all things I think are luxuries that these children take for granted as necessities.

She will also be one of maybe 4 or 5 black students in the high school. I know how isolating that can feel and I don't really want that experience for her. Being realistic, she may as well get used to the feeling because unless she goes into public education, she's likely to spend a lot of time being one of 4 or 5.

It will be an interesting 4 years and will test her strength of character and perhaps my own.

I'm probably going to play the bad mommy role and force her to go to the private. It will strain my already stretched pocketbook and I have no idea how I'll make it work. But the school as given her a scholarship worth 3/4 of the tuition and I think that means they really want her there.

For the education, contacts and college springboard I think I want her there.

Be well, my friends.