first light

I walked down the dirt road, barefoot, clutching the ragged teddy bear in my left hand. Tears streamed down my soot smeared face and in my head I sung to myself. It was a mixture of old world hymns and modern anthems, that kept my grief from spilling into the wide forlorn world.

The crickets ansd secadas echoed my internal refrains with melancholy and hauntingly hopeful accompianment. Pulling my will up and giving me a strange push into the world unknown.

A world peopled by strangers. i wasnt afraid, however, as I am.

not stupid.

The fires of that summer had scorched my whole world, leaving it uninhabitable to me. I remember, however that my war lord father had not left me unprepared. "Do you understand now?" I heard an unfamiliar refrain beginning to echo in my thoughts. The sentiments expressed were the same from different pitch. I walked. I walked in blind wanderings and unfamiliar circuitries. The sureness that once guided my steps had faltered, as I now knew nothing, unchartered by me, a sole survivor, to my heritage. All I knew was to move forward, as the past held nothing for me.

The dust blew back at me, I kept my head down as a truck drove by me.

The light was beginning to wane as I hit the highway. The sky was painted scarlett, pink and magenta.What lay ahead for me,l wondered as day bled into night.

The highway stretched miles before me, the night was long, and I would need to travel. So, as twilight began its descent, I picked up my pace, it would be miles before any hope of a ride.

I thought of the home I'd left behind. No one cared that I was lovely, it didn't matter that I was good, all that mattered to anyone was the next fix, the next ride, who had the best high, the most power in life, who could get the next laugh.

Everything changed in my life, after the dope whores came to dominance in town, I wasn't allowed to be me. I wasn't allowed a flat stomach, I wasn't allowed to feel good or content, I wasn't allowed anything but the game of illiciting my sex from me for their pleasures.

Everytime I crawled up, out of the pit of pain and despair, they would find me. They beat me unmercifully. I would be laid in bed for days, because of violence, no matter what narcotic pain pills I took. Because back then, I did drugs. They knocked all my teeth loose. He hit me so hard, I saw only white pin points in a full black, and I was grateful to be alive. He missed my temple by mere fraction of a centimeter. I ran home, that day,knowing that i didn't have a face left, that my lips were ruined, shredded. Upon inspection, I found that I still had a face and lips, the teeth were just loosened, and had punctured the insides of my lips. She was laughing and felt loved/glorified.

I would never stop fighting them, I could never submit to the injustice of it. I went blind, I ran to save my life, in order to keep my heart rate up. I was hit so hard, I couldn't see for a moment and had to crawl on all fours. It was then she told me that she was more evolved than me and that was just a lesson that I would have to learn. See what you get, and I've got a suprise for you became the by phrases of my life.

I didn't care, I could never submit to an injustice so deep, and even though I tried for life and for the kids, they would always find a way to ex me, and send me running out at the mercy of their control, where every day was a fight to avoid being raped, killed, or beaten.

I won though, because i am.

me.

not stupid.

So, I left. This time though I wasn't headed out around town. I took out. In secrecy, between three remaining relatives and the sentinal in town, the war lord...

"I am for peace, but when I speak, they are for war." - Psalm 120;7

I ran. I literally ran, when the time came to go, I wasn't ready, i was often set barefoot, and possessionless. The day I made up my mind, and felt that familiar adrenaline kick in, I grabbed my teddy, that was posted on my bed and I ran.

I burned everything down, as I left.

Thereby, evening the odds for my survival and escape.

I burned it to the ground and capped the rest.

I walked half the night. My feet were bleeding. The men that picked me up seemed to innately know my circumstance and asked nothing from me, just a comfortable companionship and some needed rest stops.

So, as the sun rose, I was standing on top of the world with nothing familiar. (I have learned to like that feeling and for awhile I even preferred it. When no one knows you, there is a capacity for brief connections and happy moments that aren't usually there, as the weight of abuse has capacity to soil eveything with its sour taint and hate.)

But as I was saying, at first light I found myself in a quaint urban landscape. Strangers were doing morning buisness, and love reached out to me, pulled me in and led me on.

I met hundreds of people in the next few months, thousands. I lived homeless and I loved it. Because of the trauma, I couldn't fathom living in a house with four walls. I remained outside, in the fresh air and well lit natural world. I lived in warehouses where caravan of cars would bring provisions of food, clothing and shelter aids. I walked all day, sometimes. I explored. I found a way to begin to heal.

At night sometimes, a friend and I would go into the market of SouLArd, an old french district in St. Louis. I would drink wine coolers and the sites, and he would scour the sidewalks for crumbs, he liked to smoke bud. We in those moments were comrades or friends, the walks were amiable and the magic of city life, the romance of the night found a way to work its spell into my mind and set a new course for my life.

During the day, I pan handled. Pan handling used to be like an art form. How much skill and charisma you have, mandates your earnings, Actually, I loved it. I know its weird but I love people, I loved the crowds, and I could always find a away no matter the adversity to make someone laugh, or turn the beat around. There is a one of a kind exchange between the beggar and the giver that is hard to explain. It is however, a pleasant one. One that benefits both. I have no shame for it, literally an exercise in compassion, humility, and skill.

I began to grow back into myself, and the long road into healing a fractured mind and soul had began, for me.

That was eight years ago. Today, I have been sober for 7 years. I live on my own and although I struggle I am grateful to be who I am. I know that with courage, tenacity, and enough love that any life can be turned around.

All for Now. Love, Melissa