tried to be nice to her. She tried to help her, but none of it mattered now. All that mattered in this world was how you looked.
The anger she’d internalized for so long exploded. She drew her arm back and punched the other woman in the face. The other woman mimicked her blows, but did not strike.
She hit her again and it felt good. The other woman did not fight back, but continued to mock her rage.
She hit her some more, each punch backed with years of hatred, loathing, and self-pity. Blood lined the other woman’s disfigured face. She didn’t care. She kept punching until at last, the other woman fell, crashing to the floor.
Her breath came fast and heavy now. Sweat beaded her skin. Her hands stung. Blood dripped from her knuckles. She began to cry. She knelt beside the shattered woman. There was nothing left of her, except ….
Her hand trembled as she reached out to the other woman. She picked up a shard of glass from the broken mirror and looked into her eyes.
The Trail
April. It seems like only yesterday the trees along the trail were covered in frost. The trail seems to be getting shorter.
Sometimes she is clear. Sometimes gray. Sometimes she’s overgrown with brush and thorns. Sometimes she’s too hot or too cold. Sometimes she’s beautiful. Sometimes she’s stormy. I stay on the trail no matter her condition. Today, she just is.
I look down. I see my shoes. They’re beginning to show signs of wear. Not too bad. The damage is barely noticeable. The edges are scuffed, but the sole is still intact, absorbing the impact of the trail’s twists and turns. I pass joggers who have stopped to rest. Some will get back up. Others will remove their shoes, their soles no longer able to support them. They will leave the trail in defeat. Most will choose to make it to the end.
I meet more joggers. Some smile. Some wave. Some are singing. Some don’t notice me at all. I see them every day, but today something is different. They seem unreal. Everything does.
Behind me the trail is but a sigh. Ahead of me, the trail is but a breath. At any moment those near me could vanish. No, the trail isn’t real to me today. She’s a mirage. She is something to occupy me, until … until what?
Everything and everyone around me freezes. I don’t feel the breeze, and the birds have ceased to sing. I do not hear my feet hit the ground. I only hear the jogger behind me. He’s always there. I hear him breathing. Sometimes I feel his breath upon my neck. I know I won’t outrun him for long.
One day he’ll catch me.
A Great Man
His chest is broad. His arms are strong. His hands are large. His jaw is squared. His lips are soft, but his face is rough. When I need strength, I find it in his arms with my head on his chest. Perfumes and soft linens could never make me feel like a woman the way he does when he wraps my hair around his arm and lays me down. I don’t need him to tell me I’m beautiful. I hear it in the way he kisses me, in his caress, and in the warmth of his body as he holds me.
He is a leader. He doesn’t need to impress anyone. He doesn’t care what others think. He is calm in the midst of a storm, carefully weighing options and never rushing foolishly to action. I trust his judgment. He gives me equality and I give him submission.
He smiles at my naiveté. He smiles when I cry. He smiles when I am foolish, but never tells me I’m wrong. When I’m angry, he smiles.
He instinctively knows when I need distance and when I need to be smothered. He hears my thoughts though I do not speak them. He anticipates my needs and provides. He knows my weaknesses and protects. He encourages me. He challenges me. He forces me to see the truth when I lie to myself.
Though at times, the world around me feels like it could fall away at any moment, crumbling around me, he remains solid. He is my core. He holds me up.
I have no desire for power. I have no need to rise above him. I do not feel weak in my submission to him. He is a man and I am a woman. I give myself to him willingly. Let me hold this man’s head against my breast, comfort him and care for him.
May I never take for granted, the love of a great man.
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