Dutiful Wife

I watch her live
a version of the youth I knew
lacking self-esteem,
unaware of her rights
blind to the concept of personal freedom

and I react
and start to feel a version of the feelings felt
when life meant nothing more to me than pleasing others

After all that I endured,
in marriage to a loveless man,
I know her as she bends beneath the weight of doubled burden;
not just the pain of one
nor just the fear that somehow overwhelms
nor just the grief of tears unshed for losses past
but also vast emotions long denied
by males who refuse to own their other side.

I sense the lost and lonely pieces of his soul
as they enter silently into her womb;
pain to pain
and rage to rage
will cling there as to a spidersí web
and what was once the core of her
becomes no more than spider spinning endlessly

as what was once the light of love within her
becomes the shadowed recesses within
where spirit lives in depravation
beyond the reach of any ray of light

Her wedding day becomes no more
than start of swift descent
to threshold of the underworld
on path that winds into her death...

Pre-ordained somehow
the daily repetition of habit learned
renewed by creed of sick submission
she accepts this loss of love as somehow right
as if he were a babe newborn
and she, the lone protector

and I feel her pain in sympathy
and cringe as waves of fear decree
the hopelessness of her existence

I want to take her by the arms
and shake her till she pays attention
but when I look into her eyes
all I sense are the walls of her denial
holding back an emptiness, a void
that soon will fill to bursting point
overwhelmed by his projections

And memories, as memories will,
become magnetic force
And I, unwilling, felt her pain descend in me

After all these years, I still recall
their stream of criticisms circling in my mind
that held me so long imprisoned,
that fed on their every touch
and tortured me through endless years

Until, at last, a power rose within me,
force of female origin
as deep within I felt the goddess stir
and suddenly, the strength was there
to walk away
to walk within
the darkness of my being

Sometimes I think the suffering
transformed itself into the courage
to stand alone
and dare to just be me

A part of me reaches to her in sympathy
but wiser voice will whisper in my ear:
Save your empathy, her ears are deaf to all but him
a modern man abusing the helpless child within her,
in subtleness that seldom will be seen

and vision rises
the portrait of a father-figure
rational and logical
a "modern" man of molestation
passing sickness on
to yet another generation...

Understanding does not always satisfy
in situations such as these
At best, I feel a cold detachment
chilling, yet releasing me
from sway of pattern finally overcome

? Michaelette ?

Copywrite© 1998 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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