On Elections

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The unfolding electoral events are personal to me, a microcosm of my life.

They are personal because I am a survivor of domestic violence and I am still dealing with my own ‘Donald Trump.’ Donald may be loud and brash and my ex cold and calculating, but underneath that plated gold veneer they are the both the same.

On You

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You Know That Physical Abuse Is Wrong.
Say It.


On Fire

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FireIt’s lonely to be alone, but echos in the empty cave pierce my ears and it’s easier to hope and it’s always, always, quieter in the silence.

They ask me and I am fine, because truth unravels and what other answer could there possibly be.

I thought that running meant leaving, I forgot that the world isn’t flat and round and round we go.

It’s not time, and it’s not silence, and it’s not sleep, and it’s not distance, but I keep thinking that one day I will find the cure for cancer, I am naive like that.

Today I think I’ll eat some chocolate, maybe that will work.

He wants me gone, he always did, and they always will, and fire smothers and burns.

On Locks

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It seems strange now to think of myself as a prisoner, but I was one, in my own basement, for the 6 long months between the time when I asked him to leave and the time of his departure.

I had to get away but I could never leave my babies, so there was no place to go but down.

I used to take the door handles off, it was my only cushion against him when I tried to sleep. You can’t get in without the handle most of the time, but when he was really angry the screwdriver worked just as well so I guess it was a silly idea.

He let me come upstairs when the schedule said so, but down there was my home, my nest, and up there were my beauties, my loves, my jewels.

I remember lying there in the darkness, as the sounds of my children dripped down through the ceiling, their tears leaving stains above my head.

Once I tried to keep him out of the basement by installing a lock on the door. I never thought he would actually break the door.

Maybe the locks kept me in instead of keeping him out.

On Blogging

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One day I’ll write about it all and today seems like a good day to start.

My life happened in the Orthodox Jewish community, where we all are the same and the Rabbis rule.

I should have baked cakes and I should have listened, but I am me and they are them and now I am free.