The one where I whine a lot

I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but I am currently living with my aunt.  She is not my aunt by blood, she is chosen family, and she is white.  As I'm sure you can understand, this has made things complicated, because she has a variety of issues that aren't mine to share, but she is prone to shouting when she's upset, which distresses me, because yelling distresses me.

She makes me anxious, but I keep wanting her to be loving and supportive towards me, and even if she wants to, and she does, she is not mentally capable of offering me the emotional support I need, even though she is very generous about financial support, I've been living in her home rent-free for several months.

Now, I've known about some of her issues since before moving in, and others I learned after, but I will admit that I have fallen prey to dismissing a lot of her stuff, making her the bad guy in my personal narrative, just because I feel like I have no power over my life, and at least if I know who the enemy is, I have that much more control.  It's not right of me, and it's not fair, but that's what I've been doing.

Recently, I've been hearing more about issues that pertain to my aunt, but not me, and it makes me uncomfortable.  It frustrates me and it angers me and I wish it weren't so.  Because if I think of my aunt as human, I can't think of her as the bad guy anymore.  And if she's not the bad guy, does that mean I am?

Obviously, I know that there aren't really people who are purely bad or purely good and I have privileges just as she does, but I knew it academically before, in my head knowledge.  Now it's emotional knowledge that I really don't want to have.  The old adage of ignorance is bliss really holds true.

I have to reassess my perception of myself and my privilege as it pertains to her and to other people.  I just have to keep in mind that I am responsible for growing, noone is responsible for making me feel comfortable in my privilege.

So the long and short of this post is "I don't WANNA!"  With a temper tantrum for good measure.  As long as I do it anyway, I can pout in my head and just a little on my blog, I think.

The Road Home

You are too old for this

I am too young

We both have reasons

This shouldn't be happening

Life shouldn't be like this

Things should be different

Better

More

But they are not

This is the hand

We've been dealt

This is the life we lead

No matter what we want

What we wish

What we hope could be

Though I would take it all away

If I could

I can't

I'm tired

I must help myself first

I pity you

Envy you your departure

Your hope

Your road out of this mess

But your road is not mine

And mine is not yours

They must be walked separately

By each woman alone

While I pity

Your sleepless nights

I must have pity

For my own helpless tears

Fare thee well friend

May the day find you home

And mayhaps someday

Find mine as well.

The Power of Three, Multiplied by Three

The children spin

His hands grasped in hers

And they laugh together

A joyous sound

Stomping feet

And gasping breath

Maid and youth

Children yet

Now she protects hearth

While he defends home

Danger kept away by him

While she ensures

There is something

To keep the danger from

They spin no more

Not together

Her whirl is a dervish

His a destruction

She repairs the pieces

Of his shattered soul

He covers his jagged edges

Because forcing a defense

Against her protector

Is too much to ask

Of one who defends

From so much

Mother and warrior

A united front

Divided

As skill and strength allow

He is too weak

To repair her cracks

He can only sand

Her damaged edges

Like the weathering of time

Against a mountain front

What she needs she takes

And then demands more

And he gives and he gives

For someone must

Be strong enough

To squeeze their child's

Rightful due

From a world

That would

Try

Deny them

And he knows

Beyond a doubt

It can't be him

His strength abroad

Is weakness here

While her strength is strength

Everywhere

Now they neither

Spin nor defend

Instead they watch their child

Who spins and spins

Spinning alone

Happily

The joyous laughter of ages past

The stomp of feet

Come to their door

Sage and crone

Know what they see

The dawn of the new child

Whole and complete

Neither youth

Nor maiden be

Yet both in one

For all to see

The new child is bold

The new child is brave

The new child weeps loudly

The new child fights fiercely

Both at home and abroad

And when they return

To hearth and home

Such as they find it

Or as they've made it

They bring gifts of words

They bring gifts of song

They honor the aged

As they pass on

As they progress

Child

Adult

Wizened themselves

They'll grant the gift

Of they road they've passed

For though they are all

Combined in one

They can never truly be either

A crime to some

And as the new child

Becomes the aged one

They remember their past

And the love they've known

The new dances have three

A sight they've never seen

Maid

Youth

Child

All spinning together

To honor everything

In between

They watch with pride

And delight in their heart

Knowing there are more middles

To be found

They are a model

Their middle is not wrong

Not a crime

Merely unacknowledged

Forced to the edges

By fears taken on

Unintentionally

Or forced on them by others

Who want to claim

They know best

And they spin alone

Once again

To show how it's done

They fight one last battle

With the hearth they've earned

They use what they know

To make it last

They protect their hearth

They're the only one who can

Even though their hearth

Extends beyond their home

They give the trios dancing

Chance to become adults

So they can make space for more middles

With wonderous results

They do not see the new children

And those after that

But they do not need to

In order to know

That those children will be protected

By those whose hearths extend

Far beyond their homes