~Mantra’s Story~ Making My Way Clear

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I Survived (Domestic Abuse!) Her-Story Challenged!



I sit.. eyes still sleepy..lashes fluttering, but..Awake

Just awakening from about a 15 year gray haze…
Blurry shadowy figures, dim lights and distant screams
Cursed whispers lie in the corners o f my eyes
Sore hands wiped down my face
Blistered feet resting on hardwood floor
achy bottom sitting on the edge of the bed

I call upon the unconscious strength of yesteryear..(the ones that sat where I sit),
with knees buckling and shaking thighs
with tender back I stand.

I wiggle and sway,
…the heels of my feet whine and my toes protest…But, I stand

Stumbling through the darkness,
Knocking over cords and shoes
Like the first steps of a baby; clumsily falling toward the window


Reaching for the long thin string and…I PULL..
Raising the shades and bringing sight

Eyes wide open..

I let in the light.
The light that hid and let the flowers die
the light that only flickered in my dreams
the light that hid deep in the darkness..

When I let in the light…

I saw humming birds and butterflies
I saw waterfalls and daisies, lit oceans,
happy faces, and candy eyed children..

but best of all with 20/20 vision I saw myself, glistening , glowing, shining, and smiling.


I made it over mountains and hills

I made it over bruises and breaks
I made it over back-hand slaps and kicks..
over bloody sheets and name calling
over dark fallen locks of hair and scraped scalp..

over hidden secrets and hushed cries…


I made it through the “You can’t do this!, You won’t do that! and If you do I’ll kill you!”
I made it through “You ain’t nothing but a woman, You ain’t nothing but a girl, a bitch, a slut and a whore!”

I made it though the suicidal thoughts, the never’s and the have-nots and “God created you for one thing only, to please men..Look at ya, you ain’t good for nothing else. Who in the hell do you think you are? You’re a woman..that’s all.”

But..when the sunlight hit my eyes, for the first time I saw all the abuse,
I felt all the abandonment
I felt all the shame
I felt all the ugliness, the hopelessness and the fear, the sadness and sickness

I saw the reality of my “Lifetime” plays, my Humorous Skits, my War Movies..
I saw it all

When I let the sunshine in, I saw the ability in all of my aspirations
I saw the finish product in the resting in the palm of my hand
I saw completion

I saw ME! A Mother, A Woman, A True Advocate for myself, A Revolutionist for Change
I saw a Determined Woman who NEVER gave up.

When I let the sunshine in, I saw myself in all its splendor; blessed with all of God’s Glory..
Beautifully hued and perfect. Strong and Courageous!

No More..No More..No More!

No more Hurt, No more Pain
No more Abuse
No more Battered Woman
No more Fear
No more Running from myself

No more and never again will I be a “victim”
No more and never again will someone else take what’s mine!
No more and never again will I cry in the face of laughter
No more and never again will anyone hit me, touch me, hurt me, scare me, and get away with it

No more sleeping
No more suffering
No more dis-ease
No more make-up and mask

(hush)…It’s all over now. (hush) It’s all over now..
It’s all over now

The hiding..(it’s all over)
The closed mouth and tight lip..
The clogged ears and numbness..
The silence and the unnatural responses..(it’s all over, now)

Degradation, Spiritual rape, fake smiles, depression, feelings of inferiority, muffled screams..
(It’s all over)

No more doubts and delusions
No more false hopes and lies

All the tragedy..it’s gone.

I have learned and grown. I have experienced all of what I must. I am in control..

Head held High..Bright and illuminated..glowing and gleaming.
With fist clutched and firm stance..Upright and fearless..I SHOUT..NO MORE! NO MORE!
Facing my enemy and all evils..NO MORE! NO MORE! and NEVER AGAIN!


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The Fisherman

Tackle Box
Pretty Feathers

Pretty Feathers Image Credit: Mantra Lotus

He ripped them off.  Plucked each turned feather..and ripped them off. Naked, and no longer able to fly..it sits; (she sits).  No longer beautiful, or priceless. Broken, shameful, and unwanted.

She once flew high..with bright magenta wings..Velvety blue crown with royal purple crest…soaring boundless, relentless, and elevated. Beautiful feathers she stretched wide. Proud for all to see.

While fishing he spotted the Rare, Radiant Beauty.  He vowed and made an adamant declaration,”I gotta have that bird.”  Arrogant and confident   “I WILL have that bird!”

She smiled from above delighted by the attention.

Everyday, he would go to the pond..with his bait, his sea-green tackle box and barely mended fishing rod.  He would pretend to be happily fishing.

Humming along with a cackling old radio.  He would bob his head and rock, smiling a toothy grin.

She thought him funny. “That noise is scaring the fish away, silly man”.

I’ll have to show him how it’s done.  She seductively flapped her wings, letting them drop softly, slightly tilting she drifted unto the pond water.   On the water she gracefully floated. Silently approaching her prey.  She bent her long beautiful neck and retrieved her jewel.

“Ah” replied the Fisherman.  Exquisite.   “Your beautiful.” he called out.

She fluffed her feathers in acknowledgement but quickly ascended.

High she flew. Gliding splendidly and free.

He watched her from below, with his hands relaxed behind his head, leaning back in his plastic lawn chair; entranced by her. He mentally recorded every movement. Memorizing every single part of her.  “I gotta have that bird”.

Everyday he returned..and everyday she taught him how to “properly” fish.

He soon started bringing gifts for her..that he would leave at the bank before his retire.

He would hide in the bushes to watch her response.  She would hop and dance with appeasement…

The Fisherman would pat himself on the back.

Eventually, he started putting the treats in his hand for her to come and get. She would dart fast but graceful to retrieve them then retreat back high.  But, gradually, she began to linger a bit longer.

One memorable evening, he mustered up the courage to touch her. So perfect she was to him.  So flawless, so religious, pious and magical. He tenderly reached out to her..She stiffened and prepared her defense (just in case) But, so gentle he was.. she grew weak and docile.

Affectionately he petted.  Devoting his attention to every feather.  He adored her; she knew it. She grew unafraid. She began to favor his touch and yearn for him every evening.  She anxiously waited for his return.

When he came to see her, he would instantly stretch out his hand…simultaneously she would come.  Quickly she flew, fluttered and descended.  Down to his hand she dropped.  Lowering her beautiful head..and he stroked her.  He would shiver; orgasmic.  She would sweetly fondle. Once it was over..she reluctantly flew away.

One day, he arrived.  He held out his hand and promptly she flew.  Instead, of caressing her with the opposite hand like before, he hurriedly covered her with a net. Wrapped her up in it and knotted the end.

Confused she fluttered..flapping hysterically, squawking and crying.

He gazed upon her, wet mouthed and flushed. Wide eyed he watched her struggle.  He then smiled and hushed her.  “Aww baby, it’ll be alright.  Just calm down, you’ll see.”

He grabbed the empty tackle box and the rest of his fruitless equipment and tossed it into the trunk while dangling her in the net. He eagerly placed her on the front seat beside him.

In horror, she watched.  His face now unfamiliar. Unrecognizable were his expressions. He bobbed his head to music, that she was deaf too.  He spoke of things she never heard of.

Frightened, she sunk and covered herself with her wings..  (only to discover that some of her wings had been lost in the struggle)..around her she saw pink fragments of what once was.

“We’re almost there baby.  YOUR Castle awaits!  I’ve been working on it ever since I met you.  You only deserve the best.  I know you’re gonna like it..you’ll see.  Don’t worry. I’m gonna take good care of you” he said.

Once arrived..he nonchalantly yanked her out of the car..holding her up by the knot.  “Look, at it!  Isn’t it just perfect!”

She barely opened her eyes to view the monstrosity that he called a “Castle”.  A dark brown building with black bars on the windows..and the word “Castle” painted on the door.

She shrilled.  She flailed about..and begged to be taken back.  At no avail, he laughed.  “I didn’t know you were this feisty. I like it.”  Quiet she shuddered.

The inside was just as dreary as the out.  Very dimly lit with low ceilings. In the center of the room was a white metal cage.  He unloosed her and threw her in.  “You sit her for a while..until you calm down.  Are you hungry?”  (she answered  not)

“Is it warm enough for you?  Is it comfy?”  (she answered not)

Enraged, he began to pound the bars of the cage with his fist. He shook and rattled the sides..shaking her within.  “Did you hear me Birdy?!  I asked you a question? ARE…YOU…COMFY?! ” Yes! she shrieked.

“Well, alrighty then” he said. Snickering and mocking her.

For the next couple of days, he kept consistent watch of  her in the cage.  Studying her.  Admiring her.  Wanting her. Laughing at her.  Mocking her.  Intimidating her and breaking her.

She grew tired and hungry.  Lost and confused. It didn’t take long for her to give up.  She submitted fully.

During the day, he kept her caged up. At night he would let her out, but always tethered by her ankle .  She would fly into the ceiling, crash into the walls and windows. He would chuckle “Silly Bird”.

Sometimes, he would tie her to the bed posts and parade her from room to room.  Sometimes, he would force her to flutter her wings..to open them wide, wiggle them and dance for him.  “Show me your pretty colors” he would demand..(she would)

Anything he asked of her, she did.

Her colors began to fade. She was never allowed sunlight and never allowed to fly. Tragically, she soon forgot how.

Her feathers became thin and before long she turned completely gray.  Engrossed by her appearance and her lack of beauty the Fisherman resented her.  He resented her cage “in his space”.  He hated the rustle of her feathers.  He teased and mocked her.  Demeaned and beat her.  Belittled and torn she hid day-to-day, tucked in the corner of her cage.

Until, one day he left with the all too familiar sea-green tackle box, bent fishing rod, bait, and busted radio.

He taped a ripped note to her cage that read:

“Gone fishing.. (YOU) be gone when I come back”.

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