I Know A Woman

I know a woman

and until I write about her woe

I cannot sleep

this woman

beautiful 

intelligent

lovely

she hides her sweetness behind contemplative sighs 

and witty phrases

she renders herself free to the world

but inside she's a cutter

ripping her soul apart with her own indignation

she is bereft of rest

her past arrests her

the song of those who reminded her

she was not worthy of success

she was worth of nothing more than a man's bed time thoughts

and night time actions

that she was built for sleep, yet she fails to slumber

If she could tell the world of her troubles

she would

if for no other reason

that her transparency could help

another woman who felt alone in her insomnia

those ever raging thoughts of woe 

I know this woman 

how she loves a man

and believes him

although each man she has ever 

encountered

manipulated her heart-strings

knowing her pain

aware of her hurt

and left her

always left her damaged

cutting herself within

remembering her mother's words: 

"All you'll ever be good at is screwin'"

"You ain't nothin' you ain't never gonna be nothin'"

Words she heard more than the melodious 

rhythm of her name

arduous words recapitulated through the mouths of as  many who knew her

and were sworn by proximity and heritage to protect her

so the world sees her

and men see her

and they want her

they desire her

talking to her

beeseeching her:

"I am different fair maiden; forsake your way, take down your wall"

Reluctantly desiring the love

afraid

wondering

hoping

praying

maybe for once it is true

brick by brick she dismantles the wall she erected to protect her city

her heart

her soul

her love

her tears

her mind and stability

it was the only thing that kept her from cutting

it was the only thing that forced her refrain from blaming herself

she exposes

those parts she hid from everyone

not knowing 

not believing

that the new man was the same man

as the last man and the man before

that when he had completed his feast

and pilfered her city

he would leave her walls

her bricks

her heart

pummeled

sans explanation

sans respect

sans understanding 

he, once visible, is now invisible

leaving her with the questions and statements

were they right about me?

they were right about me.

No matter what I do

no matter what I accomplish

no matter my intelligence

no matter my loyalty

I will always be 

the toy

a man's toy

I know her all too well

I Know a woman

he will leave her to cry alone

covering his shame in this woman

running from the responsibility

heaping on her heart the fault

and that woman

the one I know

she was different

she was reluctant

now her wall

her fortress

and the breech thereof

will take years to refortify

and as the world looks in

peering at her damaged visage

they fail to see the scars from her cutting

they neglect to see the once beautifully crafted fortress

the terribly amazing wall that kept out rioters and theives

all they see is the mess

the anger she carries from the thought of assembling a new fortress

her lethargy and self loathing

feelings of violation

and having once had a magnificent city

raped and abandoned

in vehement and gorgeously unctuous violence

leaves her blaming herself for the natural desire to love someone

to believe again and again and again and again and again

only to find that love is illusive

I've spoken with her and now all she can say is:

"I ain't nothin' and I ain't never gonna be nothin'" 

until it has become her mantra

I want to help her, but she is so downcast and embarrassed that it's hard for her to believe

her hope is vanquished like a math calculation with no formula

she is one minus a heart which equals emptiness plus her without hope

she has nothing

so I sit beside her

to comfort her 

and I can't because now, even now

she cannot speak

her face is swollen

eyes red like ripe pomegranate seeds

her eyes whaling with the juices of her discontent

her smile has been washed away with all of it's laughter

her visage sags like an old bag of half-eaten rotten groceries

abandoned and used

I know a woman

who utters silent words

knowing that the cacophony of her voice is no more understood than the plainess of her speech.

She wraps her words invisible so that no one has to see.

she blames herself

shrouded with the blame of everything so

no one has to admit or believe

she carries the guilt and shame so that they can live their lives and lies

so they can be oblivious to her pain

ignore it, hide their faces from their folly

and with each disappointment

she picks up the bricks from that wall

the bricks that are still suitable for building

and with a broken heart

and a displaced soul

a world bereft of care or understanding

homeless

she carries them

like a vagabond 

moving slower each time

as she has repeated this ritual 

with each undertaking of new love

a special gift of her optimism and forgiveness

knowing the next man will tell her

he's so glad the last abandoned her

so that he could appreciate

love

adore and protect her

love...her city filled with

broken dreams 

she trudges up hills and through 

dusty roads

barren

and empty

praying that this will be the last time

she has to relocate

she forges on

she cannot find a suitable place to rebuild because the stain

of life's struggle

and emptiness

go before her

eyes peer at her and mouths

whisper of her misfortune

prevaricating t he reasons for her debacle  

and reveling in the fact that her shoes

do not fit them

Last I saw her

she was pushed to build high on a mountain

near a steep cliff

high on that mountain top

amid the uniquely crafted

rocks and boulders

unique like her

crafted by the finger of God

and the arms of nature

embracing what people failed to see

beautiful

I found my good friend building

eyes down-cast

looking up

beyond the heavens

beside an eagle's nest

with tears streaming down her once youthful face

I stood for a moment watching

then

I picked up my share

and helped her rebuild

in our silence

there was love

and I shed a tear for her

understanding her struggle

understanding her fears

understanding her reasons

and her abilities and inabilities

I'm still helping her build on that mountain

my eyes seeing her

in unbridled admiration

I am grateful that I have an opportunity

to embrace her

she is looking back at me every morning when I rise

she and I lock eyes each morning in reflective glass

...selah.

copyright by Yolanda R. Whitted 2010

All Rights Reserved