Of Men and Mice

Of Men and Mice

I.

I know that men exist
who treat their women well
My father did
My husband didn't
This was more his
courtly style:
I: Good morning!
Husband: Go to hell

II.

When I was skin stretched over bones
and didn’t recognize my own reflection; then,
when I was full of emptiness; when I had wept
till even sorrow wasn't worth the effort...

When I believed that I was less substantial
than a puff of wind (I underestimated wind
back then), and I deserved to be neglected
and ignored, and being castigated publicly
became a small reward— at least it meant
that I might still be me, however small and
unimportant—

And when
I could no longer bear to live but didn’t wish
to die (Who knew what terrors waited in the
afterlife, and wasn’t I already dead inside?), my
soul cried out, If I should rise from this unholy
pit, so deep that I can't see the sky, I’ll know that it
was nothing less than God who saved me, and I'll
praise him (her, or it) each day and never be
afraid of anything.

And then I found myself on solid ground,
where grass grew high as heaven,
green as emeralds. The sun was
shining then, a benediction, and I
lived again.

So I have kept my promise, for I know it
was not I who climbed to freedom, gleefully
poured sunlight on myself, restored
my soul. Could I have blessed myself with
more than I had known existed, more of what
is necessary, sweet and warm, or simply lovely?

It's out of fashion now to holler,
Praise the Lord, but smarter to consider
God a concept or projection
of one's need to be protected. Well.
Whatever. I, too dense and heavy for a
concept to haul up, was lost in Hell,
quit looking for myself, but Something
didn't.

It’s immaterial what name you give the
Savior; if you want to call him Mom or
Spirit or Creator, I don’t mind. But a
concept didn’t find me, heal me, wrap me
up in joy like a warm towel wound around
a just-washed child at bedtime on a winter
night.

Spirit is more genuine than speculation
as to his or her extent and capability. I might
just holler Praise the Lord and Hallelujah till
the day I die and after, at the Pearly Gates
or in the earthly incarnation that
awaits.