Outclassing the Demons


Last night I went to listen to the poet laureate of New York,

Marie Howe, and she shared about Mary Magdalene’s having seven demons

and asked the rest of us in the room how many we had ?

Jokingly, I admitted to two.

AND I thought about the many injustices, labels, we women wrestle with

based on our looks, class, creed, and level of education

That’s how quick it was

she’d inspired me.

The fact that I could relate as a woman writer with conjuring several demon wannabe’s,

two of which I’ve since named, Macy’s and Merlot was beside the point

 

I laugh. And then I think about the others, the demons lingering in the shadows and say NO, I need to mine this field. I need to set up camp here and go deeper.

Macy’s and Merlot laugh too.

Yes, this needs attention, detail, inspection and integration.

I am not a scholar, I say defiant, but I would like to grow into something more! An author, a poet, yes a writer, that’s what I am. And a good one too!  My book, Letters to a Prisoner” received an honorable mention in poetry at the New York Book Festival in 2011. That was two years ago.

I am still reeling.

AND I am going through a period of mourning, my very ill, alcoholic father died and I am going through a DIVORCE, there I’ve said it.

SO WHAT, big deal, YOU and fifty million other women, says Macy’s,

BTW…there’s a sale coming up…What do you say? You don’t have to BUY anything….you can just shop!!! heh, heh, heh!

Evil demon…I invoke EVE, my muse, and command you to get out of Mom’s body and leave!

He saunters away. You notice it’s a HE, right?

At precisely four, Merlot taps me on the shoulder waving his red cork at me, I relent.

He chuckles. My fingernail rips open his jugular exposing a different red.  He backs off.

The others are silent.

…..

And I think how many of us  are defined by  our men. What they need from us  to serve them, enable them to live out their fantasies, and of what it will take to thrive in a man’s world.

Eve laughs.

We are the strong ones, you know. We can bend like a palm in a hurricane.

The point being…what do I BELIEVE about me?

I have been so accommodating for so long.

What do I care if anyone likes me. I don’t need Facebook for the likes, or do I?

I hear the Katy Perry song, “Roar”  on my iPod, and think out loud

See, the tide is turning. We women are united, baby. Hear us Roar! And, then what? Then, according to Marie Howe, I need to start MY OWN writers group.

Mom’s cooking is starting to show. Not to mention the peanut M&M’s and the Merlot. You need to cut the cord, make a clean break.

Macy’s and Merlot compete for attention.

I stand my ground and assert

I am just using you

you mean nothing.

They shrink. Jump back into the pit.

These are the feast days.

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