Comedy and tragedy
This mask I wear once more
Familiar streets, faces, memories
Constant apparitions of what went before

Moments of closure, never graced
Dimmed with distance and time
Now back amongst these ghosts of yore
Old wounds are once again mine

Weak
Haunted
Vulnerable

Essence obscured

Lost in the faces
Of what I used to be
And what I became whilst
Removed from this place

I
Am still in here

Somewhere

I
Am constantly evolving
Developing, changing
From what you see today
Into what I’ll be tomorrow

I
Am strength personified
Woman in her finest form
Unashamed… proud
And without guilt

I
Am confident
Sensual, intelligent
Ambitious, independent
And a highly sexual being

I
Don’t depend on
What you think of me
To love the woman
I have become

                 -2003

For Papaw French
June 13, 1901 – June 10, 1998

In our memories
And in our hearts.

For better or worse
Such a tragedy
No more serious to you
That each breath you take
For granted

She didn’t fix
The world for you
Like you thought she would
So you blame the one
That loved you
More than life itself
You blame her
For the little broken boy
Who became the angry man
Inside you now

Running
From everything
That brings you life
Leaving behind
The life you brought
Into this world

So the cycle continues
Unbroken
Life comes around
Full circle
As an 8 year old boy
Searches for something
To fill the empty space
His anger growing
No matter how much love
She tries to give
All he knows
Despite her love
Is that his daddy is…

Running
From everything
That brings him life
Leaving behind
The life he brought
Into this world

Does the cycle
Ever end?

Creamy white skin
Atop ivory sheets
Her body and soul exhausted
From the lonely day to day

Satin black hair
Fans across her pillow
She lays her head to rest
In wistful wait of his call

Unable to sleep
In her empty bed
Without the sound
Of his masculine voice
Wishing her good night
And sweet dreams

He is
The very beat of her heart

Choices must be made
Will tonight be the night?

He gauges each step
Which road must he choose?
So little to offer
So much to lose
Caught for now
Between love and sin
He just can’t break
Her heart again
So he takes the road
He knows too well
Sparing the life she has made
From his personal hell

Choices must be made
Tonight is the night

On the tear stained pillow
She finally closes her eyes
As the very beat of her heart

Stops

She recognized
The slight twist
Of his head,
The deepening crease
Of his brow,
The burning fire
In his eyes.
Always
A sickening premonition
Of the terror
Quickly rising
Into his
Tightly balled fists.
She falls quickly
To the floor,
Covering her head
With her arms -
It’s the only
Instinct she knows.
Not fast enough
Or strong enough
To win.
So she lies
In the floor
Waiting . . .
Praying
Desperately
That the kids
Are out of
Hearing distance.
Praying
That she’s
Still conscious,
Or even able
To walk away.
Praying
That next time
His lies
Will be true.

Warm blood
Pours over
Her eyes.
The darkness
Coming over
Slowly pulls her,
Finally,
Into it’s depths,
As her screams
For help
Are unheard
By the world.