There was once a woman who thought she was sly; she thought she would outwit her mate by being serviable, quiet, and shy. Little did she know that her mate would outwit her, for he knew that she would do all to not let their love die. Little did he know that he would one day say goodbye, to his mate who loved him so, for one day she should die. Die he did not want, for to posess was his aim... But little did he know that he was in so much pain... For pain had he survived as a child, when he was to see, his father beat his mother, as he did to she. Little did he know that one day she would be dead. But you see, it was she, for she...did not want to let him be.

Comes the Dawn

After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn't mean
leaning and company doesn't mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up
and your eyes open with the grace of a woman
not the grief of a child.
And learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's grounds are too uncertain
for plans and futures have a way
of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while, you learn that
Even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So, plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting for someone
To bring your flowers
And you learn that you really can endure,
that you really are strong,
And you really do have worth,
And you learn and learn,
With every goodbye, you learn.

~~~ Hi, my name is Lynn I am in Ontario Canada. I found the poem Comes the Dawn in a "A Woman's Journal" that one of our local shelters was giving out to women in abuse situations. There is no author stated. I have the poem featured on "Wisdom for Women" for inspiration I thought you might like to feature it as well.

Insights

Insights usually come
from those who have had the time
to ponder lifes questions,
or who have had the necessity to do so.
~~~ webmaster@QueenThundra.com

Your fingers

Your fingers, like spiders
crawl towards my battered body.
Your eyes like dragons fire
scorch my soul.
Your words, like talons
slice my heart.
My blood, like ice
flows.
Your mouth, like a rabid canine
spews your hatred.
My bloodied eyes, like those of prey
widen in fear.
Your fingers, like spiders
creep to my throat.
My life like sand
passes through your fingers, like spiders.
~~~ MB 1999

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
Written by Portia Nelson

1.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost . . . I am hopeless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

2.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

3.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in . . . it's a habit.
My eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

4.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

5.
I walk down another street.

Hi, someone sent me this poem which "opened" my eyes. :)
She found it in a book called "The Courage to Heal" by Laura Davis and Susan Bass.
~~~Melanie, 30 CANADA