My Hate For You Isn’t What It Seems.
By Sonya Matejko
A Letter To Grief.
Perhaps I should have listened to you when I lost my father. When childhood was stolen from me. When my innocence was taken without my permission. When my marriage fell apart. These were my secrets I wanted to keep.
Color Collecting. {poetry}
She’d rest the thing in her cushioned lap
as the sun was setting --
as it kissed its way
down the perfect slope of the Earth --
and she’d whisper to us,
Her eyes sealed in slits of reverie,
“I’m color collecting.”
Unmasking the Powerful Face of the Victim.
When we either deny our victimization or orient our lives around suffering, we begin to automatically accommodate our own violation.In order to enter into a life of warriorship, we must break this habit of accommodation immediately by addressing our suffering.