Tag: strong

Twelve Years Old

Twelve Years Old

Unlovable

That’s what I’ve believed all these years

I am unlovable

Wall so tall, hard demeanor

No one could possibly love me

And yet

Precious baby girl bouncing in my lap

Her eyes filled with love

For me! 

To her I am her hero, her protector

Her guardian angel

Twelve years old my innocence was lost

Forever altered

Missing something

Missing everything

Questioning all things

Seeking anything

No one heard me?

Who will save me?

I am unlovable

Laughter, friends, uncertain future

Innocent love

Protection, protector

Happy & positive, twelve year old girl 

Shoved in a closet

Bound with rope

She is never getting out

Is she? 

Wanting to be found

Heart ache to mend

To grieve

To share… her story

She has something to say

And yet…

Fear

Quiet cup of coffee

One lump in throat

Mom- I have something to tell you… 

When I was twelve years old… 

Tragic story told… Released 

Mending showed up

Peace

Love

Fear abandoned

I AM loved

I AM needed

I AM wanted

I AM watched for

I AM released

Throwing open the closet door

Twelve year old girl has flown

Rope coiled on the ground

Like a dead snake

Loved

But you have to tell

Your story

And get help

 

Jeni McCreary

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1 in 4 women/girls in the US will be victim to rape, a 25-26% chance in their lifetime. I wrote this for those whose stories haunt me and for those I haven’t met yet… our dear mothers, daughters and sisters that have so much baggage and who have gone through so much. Rape changes a person, fear cripples feeling that you have little or no support. While some may not see their own value I hope one day they will. Their tough demeanor, so hard to crack….simply need to know that they ARE loved, needed, wanted, and watched for. Recognize it now, your value, your future calling you forward.  Throw open the closet door and know… you ARE loved! 

Just Stop

Keep stepping

The mantra

Keep moving

Don’t look back

But we do

Over & over again

Regret nothing

Oh so many regrets

So many battles

Too much grief

Too many things

Left unsaid

But stepping

Feels right

Except the walls

Chunk up

A little taller

A little higher- day-over-day

Survival mode

This stepping

Looking at the future

One day when

Fear creeps in

Fear of failure

Angst

Never enough time

For anyone

Including for yourself

Dark circles under eyes

blood shot eyes- lack of sleep

Just stop

You must stop the stepping

Take them out

one-by-one

To deal with the hurt

The baggage

The pain

It sucks

It hurts

It is hard

All the feelings

Could be better off

Left alone

But not for you

Your growth

To be a better

Human

To appreciate those you love

To find courage

In your now

You can do this

You are more than enough

So just stop

And deal

With it all

And watch yourself

Grow

Bloom

Shine

Brighter

Than you’ve ever

Shined before

You can

You must

Just stop… stepping

And deal

With each battle

Each death

Each regret

Each wound

Each love lost

Each unfulfilled expectation

Each hurt

Each breech to your heart, mind & body

Scrub them clean

No more stepping

Just stop

you

will

when

you’re

ready

So… Just stop

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s Dancing Again

She introduced them- my parents

She met me when I was 8 months old

The oopsie baby who rolled over on her living room floor

I was 4 years old when she became Mom #2

At age 6- I spilled blackberry brandy in her purse

What a sticky mess

Beautiful blue eyes with a dark ring around the edges

She was sassy, smart, articulate, and feisty

5’ 2” who didn’t take crap

From anybody

Watching Dad and her dance was a thing of beauty

They loved to dance, they loved to laugh

They were always touching- connected in a way I’ve never seen

Every Sunday I woke to coffee & chocolate chip cookies

She was foxy, those hips in her turquoise bikini turned heads

Cherry Monte Carlo with a T-top- our hair blowing in the wind

We would sing like pop stars to Barry Manilow & Neil Diamond

She gave wise council

Shared life experiences

Had more energy than my Puerto Rican friends

She was fierce, she was fun

She let me drink wine on special and not so special occasions

Taylor Pink Catawba

Oh the parties, the friendships, the jokes

Laughter, always laughter

Everyone loved Hal & Ardena

They never judged

They always would lend a hand

An ear, a hug, a drink

They worked hard, they played hard, and they loved hard

Embraced all

Their home was a place of calm, freedom, honesty

She was an amazing cook- her Italian- AYYYYY

Her idea of fast food was a bucket of KFC

Pool parties

Cherry chocolate chip ice-cream out of the bucket- two spoons

She built her own home, yelled at contractors

Stomped her feet and gave them hell

She had three sons; Army Ranger, still born in Scotland, diabetic Scott who is gone

Now with her

She gave her time, her heart, her continuous support

Without pause

Her life experiences helped her to see angles no one else did

Her perspective was unique and different

No one else saw it until she did

Many times she was misunderstood

Her battle, her passions

But EVERYONE admired her grit, her moxy

Her fierce ability to never let go

I loved her, I will miss her, and I will mourn her

I’m grateful she’s pain free

And with the man she truly loved

She’s dancing again

Cutting up a rug- once again, reunited

In each other’s arms

 For Ardena B. Taylor (11/17/1939 – 4/20/2018)

 

Who Told You To Be Strong?

Born a fighter

A survivor

A stranger, head tilted

Eyes perplexed asked,

“Who told you

Since you were little

You had to be strong?”

Everyone

Seven brothers

Tackle football, concussions

Shake-it off, be strong

Twelve years old…decided to leave home

For a boarding school

Early decisions, strong decisions

Graduated high school at sixteen

Wonder woman?

Super girl?

Dedicated, focused

Enough was never enough

Stay strong

Be self-sufficient

Rely on yourself

Be strong, live strong

Here I am

Breakable

Back burner…everything

Must keep stepping

Stepping shows strength

No tears, shake it off

But some days I wilt

Tired of the grind

Of the stepping

I’m different

Unique

Purposeful

When do I stop being strong?

I can’t breathe

I just want to breathe…

A loner? A fighter? A survivor?

I use to view life as ‘One day when’, ‘I’ll be good when’…

Not anymore

In my now

Right here

So let’s stop stepping

And deal with the mess

Embrace the now & all it comes with

Cry, write, discuss, pray, breathe

Repeat

Now

Not one day when

He asked the question… a stranger

“Who told you since

you were little you

had to be strong?”

Everyone

But not

Right NOW