Older men often seem nice.

Especially men like my grandpa.

They seem to want to take care of me

   gently tease

   protect me.

I feel close to them.

I need their attention.

One man

   (or was it many, in my dreams)

was slightly younger than my father.

He loved me

   I could tell

and I so dearly wanted to be his.

It could have been a repetition

of my past

with a chance for a happy ending.

Maybe this time

my lover-father

   wouldn't hurt me

   would hold me close

   and stay.

I couldn't take the risk.

I sent him away.

Family

Where were you when I needed you?

What you didn't know

   you might have guessed.

But you chose to overlook

because to see was painful.

I bore your pain

   plus all of mine

while you ignored me.

Where the hell were you?

Exploitation

People easily take advantage of me.

When I was young

it was often young men

   charming

   handsome

or especially appealing people

   who seemed to need me --

it was they who took advantage

of my patience or affections.

Now it is others --

   husband, children

   relatives

   pastors, leaders

   and especially friends

   who are in trouble, needing me.

I know it isn't only they

   who are at fault.

While they accept my offerings

of time, money

   kindness, patience

   and my reluctance to confront

it is I who allow the exploitation.

I haven't learned how to say no.

It is a habit I developed

in exploitive relationship

   with you.

   a ruined, lessened person.

They care for me.

It took me more than

thirty-six years

to say aloud that

you were cruel

   thoughtless

   selfish

   using me.

Even then I fairly whispered

   the words.

I was still protecting you.

Now my stomach turns and slides

as I find myself

   still making excuses

   denying truth

   turning anger in on myself

as I cover up your weakness.

I am destroying me

by protecting you.

I've done it for thirty-six years.

Maturity

I'm always a little afraid

I'll lose control.

I'll perpetuate the destructive chain

   if not in my family

   then among acquaintances

or that I'll regress to my old ways.

I feel fear creep through my body

shaking each nerve in succession

overpowering me

   as you once did.

I beg to be strong enough

   to stand firm

   unafraid

   trusting me.

I long to feel free.

Fantasy

I have called a meeting.

Everyone in my family has come.

Anticipation brightens the air --

   an announcement

   good news may be coming.

Then I begin the story:

A father and an unsuspecting daughter.

I don't even need all the details.

By their silence I know they understand

(perhaps they already knew, without my speaking).

I enjoy their shock

   and shame

   and disgust.

I am glad they can't get away.

They can't leave me

   holding the ugly truth anymore.

And you

you sit wooden

but your flesh peels away

with the sweat rising on your brow.

You cannot run

   too weak to resist.

I have my revenge.

You are exposed!

A fantasy.

Relief

At times during therapy

I'm afraid I'll be sick someday --

physically sick

if I have to remember.

But just before I leave

for the counselor's office

I often have a surge of strength.

I'm ready.

I've never become ill

when I faced the truth --

   only relieved.

Crazy

This is crazy.

I am crying

   screaming

   hiding my face in shame.

I am weak

and can't rest.

My stomach is like a stone and

my fingers ache from clenching.

I suffer.

You!

You walk calmly

among people, relatives.

They don't know you

as I do.

You smile

and feel no guilt

   no shame.

You walk away from my pain.

This is crazy.

I carry the weight of the sentence

but you are the killer.

Bitterness

I'm not bitter.

Mother loved me

and she never knew.

She lives inside me

and helps to cancel bitterness.

I'm not bitter.

But I hate.

I hate that weakness in you

that knowingly destroyed

my childlike wonder

and soured my life for years.

I hate you.