Contributing Author: Jai Marie
Jai Marie and I have been following each other for many years although as my participation with blogging wanes and flows with my bipolar episodes I had not remembered her or her blog until last week when she swung by Memee’s Musings. Of course, I had to check out her blog and was amazed to rediscover that we focus on the same four topics: Mental Health, Spirituality, Short Stories, and Poetry!
I hope, my minions, that you will check her site out and follow her as well. Like me she has been writing since early childhood and also, like me, she has encountered domestic violence and lives with bipolar disorder. She, however, is a true writer. A writer must write, and indeed she does. She is very talented.
As a survivor of domestic violence, myself this poem jumped out at me. It is an important read even for those who have never experienced it. Jai Marie has captured the thoughts we believe before living it as well as our mind, feeling, and body experiences as we are living through it.
If you need help it is out there. I have posted a slideshow of confidential resources at the bottom of this post with a pause and control button to suit your needs. If you live outside of the US and cannot find help near you please contact these resources as well. They are happy to talk to any man or woman facing these most terrible of life experiences!
Broken Vases and Bruised Faces
My mind’s racing…
How the hell did we end up here
My mind took a rest, granting my heart the wheel
Unaware that she still wasn’t ready to steer
They crashed, landing in love with the devil in disguise
But then I noticed a shift in his actions
Although my brain signaled red flags,
My heart… she was already attached
So when he took off his mask, I sat back, while the tears dripped down my face
And as he raised up his hand,
My reaction was not the reaction I told myself it’d be if ever I was hit by a man
He put his mask back on as I sat quietly
I kept it to myself because I was ashamed…
And to top it off,
I forgave him, convincing myself this was a one-time thing
But here we are again and as he takes off his mask
I catch a glimpse of his red eyes
Realizing what was next, the damaged woman in me met him with a surprise…
Broken vases and bruised faces
My mind’s racing…
Remembering how we ended up here
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