buried deep
inside,
a part of self
wishing only
to hide,
preferring to
“live”
a lie.
how to see
it
let alone speak
it–
that,
which altered
a Life.
innocence
forever lost,
a new trajectory
is now forced.
but not
without
a heavy cost.
one can only run
from The Truth
but so far
before it
festers and scars.
An untold story
will travel from life to life,
causing all matters
of angst and strife
until it is
revealed,
brought
finally
to the Light.
It is a
courageous
conscious
Choice
for a woman to use her Voice
to speak her Truth
from the root
of her pain
and shame
at relenting
to an old patriarchal
game
that would have her use
sex
for financial gain.
A decision that then
drives her mad,
utterly insane,
a mute
filled to overflow
in self-disgust and deep blame;
a sad dimming of her Glow,
her innate beauty she can no longer see,
feeling more like a mere commodity
to be bought and sold.
Without a Voice,
her story left untold,
passing The Burden
onto the next generation.
i look in the mirror
and feel old–
outdated
faded.
i am looking through the lens of fatigue,
a tired body is ill at ease,
not always accurately does its mind perceive.
pulchritude has never been my currency,
the first thing most people see in me-
that which lent validity.
living in a world that places so much value
on physical appearance,
i mastered the art of dis-appearance–
learning to hide deep inside;
shrink from severe lack of confidence;
stuff the pain with food
in lieu of alcohol or cocaine.
now, I mature,
a process treated with great contempt,
as if it were manure.
the gift of getting older
is that One gets bolder!
You tend to give
less of a fuck
to the ego
and the others
who think you just plain suck.
Ain’t nobody got the time
for that drama and fuss.
burgeoninc 