You were the first subjugation of our modern culture Made small by the great big church who sought only to make powerful women shrink And teach them to worship only small men they held up as great We pray to you and for you, oh great-grandmother
He was not intimidated by you or 'too immature' or 'too busy' or 'not ready for commitment' (my absolute favorite), he just did not love you.
Drink this snake oil, and you will be fixed/enlightened/saved. Take this workshop, and you will be feminine enough to catch an awakened man.
Do you write to remember -- or forget? Do you write to heal -- or hurt? Do you write to teach -- or learn? Do you write to inspire -- or destroy? Do you write for you -- or me? Because you make me cry. Every damn time. But you must have cried too. I know those words have that effect on me only ...
With my newfound perspective, and remembrance of how lonely and desolate life can be without our love, we bribe the kids with cups of tea and cartoons, and submerge ourselves in our love renewed. As it always will be. As it always has to be. As I will ever keep it. Untattered. Unbroken. Buoyed ...
For those of us who have to 'drive' and contain a lot in our lives, it can be a sweet spot when someone else drives for a bit. Sometimes the sweet moments in life when we feel supported can counter feelings of isolation and allow some of the related fear and hurt to bubble up.