A Blowout Win

A lovely young lady in my life has had a rough time of it.  She came from a very unhappy home, and she continued on to an abusive marriage.  She had gone from bad to worse.  Through the help of some very supportive friends who became her chosen family, she was able to disentangle herself from that former life.  It was a process of separation, though, and the path towards independence was far from straight.

Towards the end of the end of that journey, she faced a final hurdle with her abusive husband.  This is around the time I met her.  I was witness to her fortitude, and it was truly awesome to behold.  It was clear the man had no idea the depth of strength she has built up through the tumult.  She was finally at the point where she had faith enough in herself to stand up to him, and it was clear to her and to those around her that he was outmatched and outclassed.  

Not long after this ordeal, I was experimenting with writing from others’ points of view.  I’ve found that a great way to expand my own emotional understanding is to try to not only see things from the eyes of others but to do my best to understand their feelings as well.  I decided to take a shot at writing about my friend’s final fight with her former spouse.  I didn’t show it to her for a long time, but kept it to myself instead.  I recently showed her this piece, and she greatly appreciated it.  She said that, while it’s not exactly what she was feeling, it fit the situation fairly well. With her blessing, I’m sharing it with you below.

Prize Fighter

I am one word.

One match.

One single drop

On a still pond.

But my reach is wide,

It's deep,

And I will seep

Into every crack.

Each crevice I find,

Tiny chink in the male,

I'll exploit to the last.

I will not fail.

I am a tempest

In a teacup,

A maelstrom.

Formerly a marionette.

I was sweet

And so pliable,

But I've cut my strings

And learned to dance

To my own tune,

My own rhythm.

You can't hope to hear my drum

Nor catch its beat

On I'll go

Leaving you in my dust.

So far behind.

So full of rust.

Such a good tin soldier.

Marching on and on,

Never stopping to think,

Ne'er a wish for a brain.

Fight your fight.

I've already won.

I’ve collected my laurels,

I’ve cashed in my prize.

Fight on if you wish,

But know this:

I have already won.

All your effort

Is for naught.