Excerpt from Bare Feet, Broken Glass
dear buk
I, too, had a bluebird, once.
he would sing
so sweetly
as I put on my
sunday-go-to-meeting
pretty dress
on my bruised body,
as I patted makeup,
applied lipstick
to my black eyes
and busted, fat lips,
wincing when it touched
the cuts;
he would trill beautifully
when my man
held my sore hand
to tell me how much
he loved me,
how I was the only one
who ever understood,
who ever meant anything,
how sorry he was,
how it would
never happen again.
that bluebird
whipped up entire symphonies
when red roses
or
a fistful of wildflowers
(my favorites)
appeared on the kitchen table
by way of
apology
on a day when
I cried to brush my hair
in a new style
meant to hide
the scabbed bald spot.
yeah,
I had a bluebird once.
I throttled that
lying
little
bastard.
I was
what I was.
A wild child,
undisciplined,
beaten within an iota
of sanity
for any reason
or no reason at all.
I was
a needy girl child
who would allow
any man with soft words
and a hard dick
to penetrate
the last gift I had to give,
that no one ever thought
to teach me
was a gift.
I was
a mother
of children I hadn't borne
far too early,
with no clue
how to complete the job.
I was
not even human
to parents,
siblings,
classmates.
Just a good laugh.
I was
a good wife
to two men
who proved their love
with accusations of
ridiculous things
and their fists.
I was
a skirt-wearing,
hair-primping,
supper-on-the-table
woman,
who "made love"
and worried about
how to keep her man.
Until I wasn't.
Until that last punch flew.
Until I saw my son
in terror of his life
over a bag of chips.
I was
afraid to be alone,
afraid I'd never make it,
afraid they were all right,
that I was too stupid,
that I was too ugly,
that no other man would ever want me,
afraid I couldn't
feed the boys,
clothe them,
house them,
make a home for them
safe and without violence.
I became,
then,
the beginning
of a human.
The fledgling woman
I'd always wanted to be.
I became
a woman who worked hard,
played hard,
paid her own bills,
made her own choices
and loved her children
beyond death.
I stand strong.
I beat back ghosts
of screams and blood
with the sword of
Spirit,
honed by
the love and honor
of true friends.
My heart beats
loud and true,
my hands are steady.
My eyes see
further than I ever knew.
At last,
after all,
after tears and terror,
mockery and lies,
selling myself into the servitude
of the wrong men,
I saw
myself,
proud and strong,
unafraid, unashamed.
I became
what I was always meant to be.
I became
Warrior.
I became
Woman.
at long last,
I became
me.