Alone

I wrote this poem for another abused woman, hoping it might help.

Another black eye, a broken rib...

the abuse just never vacations.

Yet we cling like parasites

to some bitter, hurtful relations.

Maybe words are the only fists

he has, but his aim is true and fast.

Punishing you with every jot

of both the present and the past.

But you do not want to be alone,

you feel abuse is at least attention.

Alone is such a big old word -

you shudder at just the mention.

You and I stand on the same

plain - only I got up and got away.

Sure there were empty nights,

but what a small price to pay.

After a while your sense of self

begins to grow and generate...

you accomplish small goals and big,

you lose your long-time self hate.

It isn’t easy - I know for myself,

but no more hospital ER for me...

Alone just isn’t that bad and then

your soul is blissfully set free.