PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am just now starting to know myself.

First off, I will always be Charlie and Luteaner’s daughter, Mammie’s and Sheila’s sister.



I love the smell of fresh cut flowers on my counter top, and fresh brewed coffee in the mornings.

I’ve never been the star athlete or had the perfect smile.

My most favorite times are me at my place, notebook on lap, or pen to paper writing, knowing in the end, I got it.



Who am I?



I am the little girl who drank a soda while being stung by a bee,

who found out the hard way she was allergic to bee stings.



I am the person who used to get angry when my father would only talk to us when he was drunk, thank God he remedied that before he passed on.



Who am I?



I am the nine year old who couldn’t get up before people to say a speech less known sing a lead or solo in the choir.



Who am I?



I am the fifteen year old who ran in her room every night for weeks after she got home from school with just her tape player and her music so she could surprise her mother for Mother’s Day that year, by singing a solo in church and dedicating it to her.



Who am I?



I am the twenty four year old who on a cold thanksgiving night became Ashley and Andrew’s mom, saw Ashley fight for her life only to lose the battle and see Andrew in a continual fight daily.



Who am I?



I am the twenty-nine year old, who had to watch the strong man that was my father code in the emergency room while I was standing there, but he came back because he knew we were there.



Who am I?



I am the woman who Richard hit.  The one who’s throat still had marks where his hands were choking me.  The woman who was slammed to her kitchen floor by a bad man, as I was praying to God, and the man told me that God would not save me and that he was going to kill me.



Who am I?



I am the person who dances naked in front of her mirror, and doesn’t start a morning without singing something.



Who am I?

I am the woman who took the verbal beatings from another woman.  Things like being called stupid, retarded, being threatened that I would be quote “outed” so I’d never get custody of my child. Me, trying to be the helpful me. Having me and the finances of my family so deep in the red they‘re like a river of blood. Losing positions I enjoyed over someone trying to make me their caged bird.



Who am I?



I am a survivor who at the end, left with my life.  Not to hear the words, not to take the verbal beatings.

Just asking for my freedom not to have to worry about my family being hurt or followed.  My child being hurt, demolished, thrown into emotional distress by disgruntled statements.

A survivor to live my life without the drama, without the paranoia, lack of sleep wondering what or where next.



Who am I?



I am a soul survivor, but at times still wonder will me and mine ever really be safe again.