Wisdom

When I was born I was innocent
And suddenly assaulted one day.
I traded naive in for Victim
And Victim was how I would stay.

I lived through the fear and the torment
And carried it with me each day,
'Til weariness formed a Survivor
And infinite dragons to slay.

The warrior rests in her armor
And sleeps with a single eye closed,
The victim, too scared of the nightmares,
Did rarely and fitfully doze.

The victim once cowered in the closet
And started and cried at each sound.
The survivor with sword gleaming brightly
Charged bravely as demons abound.

Over time now the sounds are less scary,
And the demons becoming more rare,
But the closet is still just as cozy,
And the sword's edge still flashes its glare.

And the woman who wavers between them
Sometimes pauses at dusk or at dawn,
Her dark hair too early with silver,
And her face in a frown always drawn.

Must her victim's soul always be fearful?
And her warrior's heart always enraged?
Surely life could find balance between them?
‘Tween black and white, could there be greys?

In her head there are pockets of wisdom,
Like dust-covered books on a shelf.
She knows a mere sound cannot harm her,
And the demon she fights is herself.

She'll never find joy as a victim.
And survivors will never find peace.
To have those requires a new path,
And her options by one must increase.

After Innocent, Victim, Survivor,
There must be an end to the strife.
When labels and masks finally falter,
Only then can she LIVE in her life.

The survivor exists for protection
When the demons the victim engulf,
But the wisdom reveals her reality,
And surviving just isn't enough!

May one day the victim find healing.
May one day the warrior find peace.
May the woman in tempest between them,
Through wisdom, someday, find release....

2002