“For these reasons the Jews seized me in the temple and tried to kill me. Therefore, having obtained help from God, to this day I stand, witnessing both to small and great, saying no other things than those which the prophets and Moses said would come – ” Acts 26:21-22, NKJV
To the one called Devil,
Now, I laugh at your thought of killing me. You’ve tried so many times in the past – used so many people to trample me, to destroy me, only to see me rise yet again, brighter and better than ever.
You used my father against me before I was even born. He didn’t want anything to do with my mother or the bastard seed, me, that grew in her. For years, I would wonder what I missed about myself, what part of me was him, and then I realized that my true Father was there before that human thought to lie his way between my mother’s legs.
You used my stepfather against me to be that living breathing example of a horrible man so that I would never want to deal with men, never want to have a relationship with men for fear of them turning into a drunken shell of a man who used fists and words to control. But you didn’t know that He had my back and provided me with a grandfather that all men should emulate, that He provided me with uncles that would show me how real Black men act. You didn’t know, most of all, that He was the only man I truly needed because He would show me all the goodness that my stepfather did not and could not possess.
You used my cousin’s boyfriend’s friend against me to take from me – with force – my most special gift: my virginity, and by him doing that, I traveled down a dark path of self-destruction, low self-esteem, self-hatred, and loneliness. You thought I was through. Hell, I thought I was through, too. We BOTH forgot that He was there, beside me, inside me, growing, moving, pushing me forward when I couldn’t lift my head let alone my feet to move out of the darkness.
You used my ex-boyfriend against me to seal the deal in my hate of men by having him love me, by having him make me fall head over heels in love with him, by making me believe that love could come my way, that I – broken woman – could find love just for me, and then have him tell me I wasn’t good enough – that I bored him. I’ll admit it. I’ll give you props. You obliterated my very core. You sliced through arteries; you bled me out with this. For a lifetime of pain inflicted upon me by men would culminate to this point as I was just shy of my 30th birthday. You made me realize that I would have to be alone – that no man in his right mind would ever want me. And I believed it. And I lived it. And I breathed it.
And I pushed Him away. After all this time, after all this life, after all this existing, again, I was hurt, and this time, I was ready to die. I was ready to simply exist in a world where love was something I would see for others and never for myself. And I lived that life for years, feeling the yawn of loneliness, the ache of hysterical solitude dwell within me.
And then I fell into Him again. And one day, one typical, normal morning, as I brushed my teeth, He whispered in my ear, “You are beautiful. You are everything wonderful that I could make. No one shall ever take away the strength that resides in your pinky let alone the marvelous vessel that is your body.”
I heard Him. I saw the shine in my face, the glow in my cheeks, the spark in my eyes, the upward curl of my mouth, and I knew…and He did, too, that my death on earth was over, and your time of trying to kill me had ceased – indefinitely.
But you’re good – you’re so good at dismantling lives and driving people away from the Light, away from the beautiful lives that could so easily be theirs if they only believed.
You did it to me.
And you continue to try to do it to me. You see me believing in love and wanting love now, and you hit me with hate from my family. You see me flirting at a guy or having whimsical dreams, and you hit me with career issues. You see me trying to look cute to attract attention, and you hit me with rejection letter after rejection letter.
You see me overcoming one of the biggest obstacles in my life – my love for self – and you know that the minute I truly conquer it, your reign is over, for I shall prosper in everything once I have love of self and the love of someone else.
And I know you won’t stop. You can’t stop. You hurt like me, too. You’re lonely, and you’re angry, and you’re hateful, and you’re spiteful, and if you can’t have everything, then no one can have anything.
I get it. And I know you won’t stop.
And just so you know – I won’t either. I won’t stop because I’m fighting for my life and my destiny, and now that I know and I believe that no weapons shall prosper against me, there’s nothing you can do.
I won’t bleed for your enjoyment anymore.
Taliban wanna-be! Bible-thumping Crusader! Is this any way to begin a love affair? In the case of Ayo and Bilal, the answer is a resounding yes! After the dust from religious and familial wars has settled, the 42 year old widow and 32 year old appraiser fall deeply in love, until an unexpected diagnosis convinces Ayo that loving Bilal means letting him go. But has she underestimated the man who, in spite of a tragedy of his own, vows never to let her go?
(
She spends so much time supporting other writers that she thought it was time that she supported her own published efforts; at her new site - 
The World According to ChickLitGurrl™ 
Recent Comments