Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Who Inspires You... I mean Me

Today is Wednesday. But then, you already knew that.
What you didn't know is that I am trying something new, blog-wise, that is, thanks to a wonderful blog I stumbled across in the wee hours of the morning.

Today's topic is one posed by Ron Cooper on his companion page on FaceBook-
Who Inspires U?

I wrote this poem many, many years ago... around the time a lovely person gave me inspiration, among other things. Over the years since, I have lived with these same feelings, always finding that thoughts of her made me feel better and more sure of myself.
Putting myself out there for criticism is hard, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.


Glass Bottle

I'm in a glass bottle
Trying to get out
Nobody hears me
Nobody listens
Please open the bottle
So can get out
And be free
Of my Invisible Prison

Who Inspires U?

Her name was Mamie. But everyone just called her Mama.
She wasn't my mother, but she protected me with the fierceness of a She-Lion protecting a cub when I was endangered by others. Adults. Those who should not have cast judgement or labeled me without attempting to know something about me first.
I was attacked, physically, by a woman whose son had a crush on me. We were in high school. I was older by a year. I was nice to him when he was new to the school, the town. I never intended to anything other than be nice. A friend.

My kindness was turned against me.
I was called Slut. Jezebel. Whore.
I was slapped. Pushed to the ground.
By the new pastor's wife.

Mamie came roaring out of the house. Down the walkway. All her anger and disgust plain for all to see on her beautiful face. All aimed at the other woman. The adult who should have been above such pettiness and cruelty.
She cast the woman from the yard. The street.
She came to me. Cradled me in her arms. She led me into the house. Sat with me until my tears stopped. My throat raw. Exhausted from the shame I felt.
No words were spoken. Instead she tucked me into bed. Laid a hand on my brow. Kissed me. Smiled.
I was worthy of her care. Her kindness. She considered me as much her daughter as the two girls sitting by my side.
I don't have many memories of the next several days. Just of being cared for and accepted for who I was.
I know she spoke up for me, as did other adults, when the topic of my 'bad influence' was brought up to the adults in charge of our school group. I later heard that only 2 of those present spoke against me. The rest in the full room refused to listen. They knew me and did not judge.
Because of Mamie I learned something about myself.
I am important. I am loveable. I deserve to have my dreams come true.

To Mamie... Thank you for a gift greater than you will ever know.

all thoughts, poetry, lyrics and ideas unless otherwise credited are the sole property of DHDesigns/Dawning(2010)
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