Written by Renee Dueck
The icy wind tugs at my coat as if it wants to play. It finds its way in and grins greedily as it finds flesh. I pull my collar tighter as if to impose my power again - and begin to pick up my pace. This game feels like it's been going on for a lifetime and I'm tired of it now.
It knows my weakness and almost laughs at my attempt to protect myself. With fierce persistence - it again whirls around me...and somehow the swirling orchestrates a lashing to my face. A lashing that uses my own hair against me.
It reminds me how my older brothers used to take my fists and hit me with them while chanting "Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!" I loathed that game. And I was loathing this game as well.
I turn and shout, "Stop beating me!" But it only howls louder as it slaps me again and again.
I can feel the tears begin to form. And I wonder when it will be over.
I feel depleted.
With persistent force the wind continues to lash my face. It doesn&…
It knows my weakness and almost laughs at my attempt to protect myself. With fierce persistence - it again whirls around me...and somehow the swirling orchestrates a lashing to my face. A lashing that uses my own hair against me.
It reminds me how my older brothers used to take my fists and hit me with them while chanting "Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!" I loathed that game. And I was loathing this game as well.
I turn and shout, "Stop beating me!" But it only howls louder as it slaps me again and again.
I can feel the tears begin to form. And I wonder when it will be over.
I feel depleted.
With persistent force the wind continues to lash my face. It doesn&…
Comments
Martha
thank you for posting this