24 Apr / NaPoWriMo: Day 22, 23, 24
Saturday Night Awakening
I blame you
So I can keep my story
You know, the story where
You did me wrong.
The story where
I am a victim of your
Heinous, terrible, irrefutable acts
Of unconscious thought, repression and rage.
You know, that one.
Then, during a monologue
By a young man with curly black hair
And dark framed glasses (much like a lover from before)
I am released.
The gig is up
The truth revealed -
There is no one to blame (Gasp!).
I am the victim of no one
I am not a story comprised of sad, sad bits
Or a sequence of events where I was disempowered
I am this one moment.
I am born new in every single, solitary moment
It was not you, or them or even Him.
It was, what is
And that’s simply okay.
Scrubbing the bathroom sink
The words come piling in
Slow at first, easy to remember
Then, like a freight train building up stream
The words accelerate, take on a life of their own
Whole paragraphs appear, rhymes and epiphanies
Letters to mother, cries to lovers – it’s all there
The sink shall have to wait.
She was the first
But not the last
She loved with the tenderest of affection
But there would be more
Secretly knowing this
It was rejection that found its first word
But she did not give up
By adolescence there was a fierceness
Even she could not accommodate
The spaciousness of time took the place
Of hugs and kisses
Leaving her was hard
But harder still for her
She didn’t show it, put on a brave face
But inside, she was dying
She soldiered on, as she always does
But all the while hanging on to the knowing
Knowing, in the end, the love would return
In the end, the light, the glow of sparkling blue eyes
Would appear, and all would be right with the world
Copyright 2011 Heather Strang