Ashley Mueth
Mentor
Content Warning: Graphic Descriptions of Violence
During her life she felt trapped—quite often.
Her wings clipped. Her strength depleted.
The hope of love—gone. The harsh reality,
her life meant submission to the Other.
The Other was manipulative. She tried to fly
away—once, twice, but ultimately failed to escape.
She was held down by empty promises—that he loved her,
even when he hit her, bruised her cheeks,
blackened her eyes, and buried her only child.
His controlling words and angry
outbursts made her believe
that he’d do it one day—shoot her.
Although she could no longer fly,
she slowly trudged through rainstorms,
the rainstorms blowing over once
he had his fix—nicotine and sex.
Sunny days—he’d pick her flowers,
and finally bouts of hopelessness,
when she walked on eggshells—his anger so erratic
that she’d hold on to her mother’s photograph and shake,
praying that he’d go to the shop and work on cars
for the day, until he’d stumble to the bar and drink
away his anger in cheap draft beer.
After he left, she carried herself to paradise.
She rested, she breathed, and danced her way through
the days. She spread her wings and flapped
until she grew strong. She began to heal, slowly.
Once she ventured out to the water,
and found laughter—a happy, singsongy voice,
she instantly felt hope. This voice set her free,
healing her clipped wings, healing her hopelessness.
Love—she found in a woman born near the sea.