Mares
written by: Brittany Cogbill
When we were playing with our Barbies, learning the level of perfection we were to mimic, the boys were running as fast as they could, -destination- no limit. We critiqued their outfits; their hair, tugged at our own. Is it really so different now that we are grown? Instead of strength and independence, we were to be “good” and “quiet,” to be peace to a man’s soul and his mind, constantly in a riot. Helpless and dependent damsels-to sit pretty and wait on our chance-for a handsome Prince Charming to arrive on his horse and ask for this dance. Calm, pretty, proper, submissive, to counter the angry, ugly, mean, and dismissive. Like our mothers, like our grandmothers, “just be polite and suffer,” hide the problems under ironed covers. 5:00 dinner on the table, his loyalty a fable, but to provide for you, he is able, so just cross your legs and sit. SIT STILL- do not scare him with your emotion because that is too real-keep your mouth closed; be the pretty, docile woman that he chose. Sit with the loneliness, the dreams that stayed behind your eyes, put your fantasies of a good life to rest, because YOU ARE TO BE HIS PRIZE. But, only the kind of prize he keeps to himself, he will go and play; but every once in a while, he will pull you off the shelf. And your feelings, they are just too much, an overload of emotion that he just cannot take, so cry when he’s gone and leave the “hysteria” in private, if not, what a mess you’ll make. Don’t worry, he can no longer institutionalize you, the way they rid of us not so long ago, but he can still say you ruined his “peace,” and go find a new “model” on his ventures to and fro. He can then tarnish her peace and move to the next, leaving trauma and unhealed treatment in his path, but you’re just his crazy ex!
You will wonder with all of your free time where the nice words went, and try to chase back the time and positivity that was so foolishly spent. We’re taught to be “sweet” and “cute,” agreeable and mute, to handle every disaster with grace, to meet EVIL with leather and lace.
Sit and wait for the knight on a white horse to come along-but whatever you do, do NOT choose wrong. But when they do EVER seem wrong?
Those dreamer eyes veiled so thick, unaware of their tricks, your real, soft beating heart placed in their hands, to be left alone in a ditch.
Well, that’s alright-just try again, begin again, and again….and again. If it all goes wrong, fall into the arms of a friend. Maybe my friends are weak, from the weight of a man dropping me to their feet, and now I have to take a totally different street, so that we never again meet.
Do I truly need a knight with a shiny sword? Because this charade has me beyond bored. Can I expect a manchild next time or one that calls himself “my Lord?” Do I want to go on another “first date,” when FLASH FORWARD I’ll be sitting across from someone I now hate, because they NEVER first show up with their chains and their crate. Does my mother REALLY need to meet another man? Do I even want to hear of another plan? Of marriage and a life coming from the mouth of my biggest fan, only to become my biggest enemy, when he was the one who was SO SO into me.
The strength and the boundaries arise, oh, but then I’m no longer such a prize, and you cannot even imagine what I am when I can see right through the lies.
I never wanted to be a doll-I only ever wanted to be me, but when they cannot mold me into their idea, they set me free.
Why choose a strong woman to try to tame? You will never enjoy the outcome of that game. It all just keeps ending up the same; these “oh so strong” men will never extinguish my flame. They want to put me out, have me die weak and feeble locked up in their house, pretty as a picture, and quiet as a mouse.
Perhaps, at least, I have always watched them fail, trying to stomp me out is like chasing their tail-at least they can say “she’s crazy,” while grasping for the rails. I’m SO sorry it’s so inconveniant that I’m pretty with a mind that I speak-that I’ll still fly you to your highest peak-that you’ll never find ME again in every face that you seek. You’ll never find me when you lay her down in your bed, but I will never cease to exist in your head. While you were once so threatened by fire, you’ll be dying to start one instead. You will never pass me on the street, and you’ll look for me in every woman you meet, and ponder at night how you left me at your feet. ……………BUT I’M NO LONGER THERE. 🙂
I rose out of the ashes, elevated, despite your mood crashes-perhaps I’m even ready to bat my lashes. This time, I come with the ability to discern; perhaps this time, I have finally learned. A man can beg, and a man can yearn, but I will never put out my fire just to have my turn.
I have no need for a knight-I can ride just fine, someone will meet me halfway, if there ever comes a time. And if that time never comes, that is fine by me, because I’ll never be a doll. Fire is meant to be FREE.
