Today I had the honor of sharing a poem I wrote for Domestic Violence Awareness month at our YWCA’s annual event Flowers on the River. I wanted to share it with you all too as a reminder that domestic violence affects 1 in 3 women and it may be the person you least suspect. Learning to move from being a survivor to a thriver is one of the things I am most proud of. Here is “Waving Goodbye”:
I’ve heard that in some countries the penalty for thievery is having your hands cut clear off.
I wonder what’s happened to them, all those years worth of hands just left without a body to give them purpose.
It’s been a long time since you held me under your thumb and I guess I still wonder if you ever felt it all? If there was ever a sense that someone, something might be coming for you?
Coming to loosen the death grip you had on me and take back the breath you stole from my lungs.
They don’t cut thieves’ hands off where we come from. There really isn’t much price to pay at all for the things you stole from me.
You lunged and lashed and grabbed the air to fight when you were finally losing me but my skeletal spirit somehow slipped free.
I balled my fists and pumped my arms hard and ran panting toward a line only I could see. It was a scar drawn across my heart with a treasure buried there under the shiny sheen of muscle,
I dug it up and the dirt stayed stuck under my nails for years. I sift through the piles of gem stones I uncovered in my own heart with my own hands and I marvel.
I cross my fingers behind my back when I reach out to shake yours. This is an offer not a promise and you’ll do well to watch carefully as I wave, these hands of mine in motion,
Farewell at their front and hello at their back and me in the middle smiling because after everything I still get to decide which finger to dip in the water as I cross over to freedom.
I noticed when I saw you last that your hands still dangle there at your sides. They let you keep them after all. I do so hope you’ll learn to use them well.
As for me and mine, we have pinky sworn our way into tomorrow and are fingering the change in our pockets, trying to decide what to spend it on.
And this is me. Proud survivor. Proud thriver.
This is powerful. Grateful for your voice.
I love the visual. So proud of you! 😘