Scars are stronger than skin. I have lots of scars, many which
I have inflicted myself, by refusing to dodge bullets I should have seen
There is a dual nature within, joined by the scars. One on the outside, easily seen
The one that people can believe in. The other is deeper, hidden, watching.
Outside I am strong, I am confident I am powerful outside, broad-shouldered
I am a mother, a caregiver, a daughter, a Christian, a friend, and lover on occasion.
Outside, I am honorable and good, I don’t hold grudges, I sleep soundly
I love my family and friends, I honor my parents and go to church
I work hard – frantically when I am hurt; I love deeply and quickly
I sing with the radio, whistle while cooking dinner; I play in the dirt and watch things grow
I tend sick puppies, sick children and ailing spirits thirsting for comfort
I don’t balance my checkbook, I forget birthdays, and I cannot always tell if my clothes match
Inside there is the secret spirit; she is strong and weak at once
She circles and sniffs and tastes the winds to see what is coming
She is fortified by grace, strengthened, as time and time again
Pleas to God are answered in ways I could never have imagined
The spirit inside dreams solutions to problems still on the verge of Consciousness
The spirit hears the change in the sounds of the birds and crickets
She senses the change in the trees, she sees small changes in the voice
Or the sleep or the gait and the eyes and identifies the danger
This spirit feels anger - rage, wanting both revenge and peace
The spirit fights for survival sewing together wounds left to bleed
The deep secret knowing senses that being alone too long is dangerous
She knows the difference between love and infatuation
To really love a woman, to love myself, there must be a knowledge and love of both
The profane and the sacred combining into the vision of who the self really is
An understanding that the same woman who cooks your breakfast has needs
Way beyond food and water - a need for the soul to ravish and consume, a need to breathe
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This bud is growing, taking form
Struggling to become what it can be
Your hands protect it from the storm
Guiding the growth of us, and me.
The roots are stunted, shallow too
The bud just got by, until you
Now, at last, it sees the Sun
It sees the growth that has begun
To grow is to leave behind what you had been
To strive for something better and new
The bud is growing like never before
Because of, and reaching up for you
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