His Daughter ~ Molly Kate Kestner (Original)

And she silenced me

She told me I liked it

He said I wanted it

He said what’s a nice girl like you in this business for?

Get out before you change for good. 

You're too good,

 too beautiful, 

Get out before you become like them-

tired 

old,

 sad,

 beaten,

 addicted,

But I had been born tired, 

old soul, 

carrying the grief for her and protected her in the beatings.

M'reld Green does a poem all women should hear @ Spoken Funk

She had a little bit of devil in her!

I have a little bit of devil in me.

Gods and monsters. It depends on which you choose to love in the end. Which I choose to put my attention to. It depends on which I wake up with and spend my day with. It can be either full cups of cream or mostly empty. It was all my perspectives. I have a little bit of devil in me. Like the one time my husband laid on the couch relaxing after a fight in which he controlled my finances. I thought that I would much enjoy scalping his skull at that momment. The thought itself brought me such significant joy I gurgled out a burst of laughter and merriment at the fantasy or daydream. He continued to lay their oblivious to his danger in my presence. A year later I did try to scalp him and spent a day in the most notorious jail in the nation being headquartered by an infamous Sherriff Joe Arpaio known nationally and federally for his human rights abuses. I walked with a certain knowledge about myself. I knew that if I died in his jail that I would be a political prisoner and that it would be similar to dying in Juarez because that is what became of me loving a Mexican. I became a woman who almost died in Juarez. When half joking and half evil he would say to me with a snarl of sarcasm and arrogance Remember, Chappparraaa….!! I am from Juarez. This comment was a way to control and have me feel intimidation. As if his size alone and professional position weren’t intimidating enough. He being six foot 200 pounds and me being a size 4 100 pounds and no longer a 5 foot even. He enjoyed standing over me hovering over with his weight and size to control with his body over me.  Suffocating me until I was buried alive and then one day I had to dig myself out of the grave he left me in for almost dead. The only thing left dangling was a sliver of love from seven generations who looked for me until they found me and brought me home to love. Seven generations of women before and after me came for me. I even called in the Yaqui grand grand father who killed one of those women with his rifle end when she stepped out of line. His only solace now that she’d escaped was knowing the law still decided weather or not she had a home without him and she would be left homeless if he decided. He was not done trying to ruin her life but we all knew that in the end he would be the one lonely.