A Prayer From Your Ancestors: A Poem

Photo by Vlad Gorshkov

Published: July 1, 2020

I accept that I can’t change him . Or myself, for that matter. I accept me and him for what we are.

I repeat this while I look into my own tired eyes through the mirror. If  I stare hard enough I swear I trip out for a second, and lose reality. I’m okay with that. But I realize some people aren’t.

I also accept my reality. That the person I love can’t see through his own pain and I accept to carry it for him.

With every hair grab, I accept it. With every kick to the stomach, accepted. Every slap, hit, choke, penetration: it’s all accepted.

We’re stronger than them you know, that’s why women get hit more. It’s not cause men can defend themselves. It’s because women are the ones strong enough to carry their own pain and someone else’s.

We accept that.

I pray to the Lord that you accept something different, child. That your reality will be different.

I think all of us women pray to the Lord that our daughter’s won’t have to suffer at the hands of someone else’s pain.

Accept that, child, please.

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