Scars

Less than 24 hours ago, two sisters were killed by the husband of one of the women. Two days before that, a school teacher and one of her students was killed by her husband. A day before that another woman was killed by her ex-husband. Twenty-four hours ago, a man’s body was found in the street. His wife or girlfriend was arrested. Twenty people per minute are reportedly (reported) abused by an intimate partner. Why? Why? Why?

 

I cannot decipher messages in the clouds but
I am learning to interpret the meanings relayed
through scars. A story for every scar even the
ones covering the heart. The ones you think
no one can see because like a masterful artist
you’ve learned to hide the ones covering your body.

I hear you telling the untold stories whenever we
are together. The words deftly concealed in every
sigh, in every tear you manage to keep from crying,
in every effort you make to hide behind a façade of
plastic smiles.

Who told you that love was supposed to
leave scars on the heart? Or just scars?

Who told you that love wasn’t supposed to be
easy?

Is there some riddle that must be unraveled, an
equation to be solved to explain why women
are being murdered as such an exasperating rate?

We, like fallen soldiers, perishing in a war, a search
to find love. Trying to piece together broken hearts with
tears. Holding on to broken pieces that, like glass, hurt us
until we can’t help crying.

Who told you that discarding piece of yourself to accommodate
someone else was love? Who told you that to compromise in
love means to fill up the empty parts of yourself with
someone else?

I speak many languages, but mostly the language of love.
I will hold you here until the bruises are gone. I will hold you
here until you know that it isn’t love that hurts, it’s the absence
of love that’s staring you in your face becoming more and more
angry because you want to walk away.

Peace & Love,
Rosalind

P.S. Love doesn’t hurt. Don’t believe the hype. When you are truly loved, you are valued and you will never have to question whether you are loved. If someone is hurting you, leave. You can get over a heartbreak, but your family will never get over losing you if you are killed by someone who claimed to love you and you knew all along that it was never love. Love yourself first.

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About Rosalind Guy

I'm broken & my soul is weary/ my weary soul rebels, fights/ anything & anyone who tries to heal me/I beat my head against a wall of memories/ trying hard to break free from the chain of memories/ I can only be free by saying it so/ i weave a necklace from words and finally/ I find freedom/ free free free. As you can see, words are powerful to me. As Maya Angelou said, words are wallpaper of the soul. I have lots of nightmarish memories that threaten to break me, but I learned a long time ago about the power of words. They can be used to heal and destroy anything that threatens to destroy the person. Words coupled with love have the power to save and heal. I am author of three books: Skinny Dipping in the Pool of Womanhood, Tattered Butterfly Wings, and Blues of a Love Junkie. I am a high school English teacher. I am a former reporter. I am a mother. I am a woman. I am a fierce advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves, those who's voices go unheard. Check out my Amazon author page at the following link: http://www.amazon.com/Rosalind-Guy/e/B00BGH5F88/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1432491754&sr=8-1.
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