Really, what can I say but,
                     Thank you?  Honestly.  Because there was enough felt
                                                      love ( if not real – and who’s to say?)
for a time, to
get me away.
               And if it
was going to happen later, I’m glad it happened sooner. 
    So, thank you.
Maybe I ought not reveal much
                               more (though I often can’t keep silent) because
who am I to debate or fight or plead?  And what would
                I be pleading for?  There are truths all
                              around and
though I believe there’s a difference between opinion and
                                                             conviction, we all in the
                                                                                     end have to choose what          
works
for us.  And I’m trying not
                              to be angry cause I see how fruitless that really is
                                         and I’m trying not to
                                                                guess at how you must have
                                                                         seen me cause turns out I
                                                                         saw you all wrong, too.
                                                                                                           These
words are not for you. 
                       but for me – to remind me later
                                       of my strength
and the fact
          that a heart can break but
won’t stop
               pounding.  And there’s a bigger purpose.  I no longer
long for less than what I have.  It’s not about ideal.  It’s about
accepting and
          that on a certain level, I won’t and can’t because vow or not,
                        a man is called but if he
                                                               heeds it not a woman will.
                                                                        So I have. 
                                                                             I’m stating now
                                                                                                    that it’s not
okay, by me – and that’s okay.  But for the record, I never
                                                                                               needed
saving – only staying
    and your reasons are yours
       and mine are mine.  At thirty-three
                I’m dying now to self,
                                                     finally and I’m ceasing the impossible
                                                                                        search
of meeting Jesus in a fallen man.  I don’t need to crucify you
                   for what you could not give and why bother with
                                that yearning when I am already
so well
         loved.  I was bought with a price and belong to only he who
                                             thought of me above all.

So…much obliged that you fed me when I was starving.
                              I see, we’ve both had
                                                     our fill of any ephemeral delicacy
                                                                        and objects in the mirror -
                                                                        are now behind me.
The
true image is within.
I’m pleased I could entertain you, let you play your role
              and I played mine and though I wasn’t acting,  I learned
                                                       the art,
                            learned too,
                                             to let the curtain close.
                                                                      I’m done with all high
                                                                             drama, ready to
                                                                                             embrace
the romance offered long ago.
                   And in the finale, you know
                                                                                                       what else
is over?  That need for you to understand.  I don’t care what you
              think and I mean that in only the nicest possible way. 
                 If actions speak
louder than words, yours have released me and I don’t want
  or
                  need an explanation. I want
                                               to walk away, head held
                                                                          high, in honor, dignity and
                                                                                  grace. 
What will be will be and I will now be still but later if you hear me
              laugh,
know I laugh at me and not at you because what else am I going to
do?  It’s true-I’ve been flipping coins, of late,tossing ‘em with a
                                            prayer, thinking that: 
what else am I supposed to do? It’s all new but glorious, too.
              Soon and very soon, they say and that soon is now the past.
                                                       The future’s where I’m focusing.
                                                                                           I’ve wasted
more than a decade in appeals, in making cases for my worth and
                                                                                                     yes,
                                                                                                    you’re
right.  I am guilty but aren’t we all? And guilty or not, I’ve been set
free, ransomed,  so you won’t find me banging on the prison door.
                                                                                                      I was
                                                                                                        wedded to, too long, the notion that if I
was cherished properly, void of all suspicion, maybe I could be the
        savior.  Either way, that’s all mixed up.
        So it’s not vain to fly now, ethereal at last, as long as I’ve
        successfully let go
                                       of earth.  The higher I soar above what no
                                        one in this calamity craved anyway, the
                                                            clearer my vision becomes.
                                                                                     I never fathomed
                                                                                                        this vigor,
                                                                                                         how
eagle like I was till I met you. Studiously, I studied and now have
      arrived at
flight.
                    I’m not a snob.  I just don’t belong and want no more to
                               try. 
                              There’s a genuineness in this that
could not have been discovered in any other way,
                                                                                   which is why you’re

not
   the villain nor even marked erroneous because you took it as far
                  as you could.  That fact, once declared, that I could have
                                            taken it further; there might lie the
                                                                                     mistake, happily
                                                                                       avoided.  On
                                                                                             declarations, I
must add that it did not go unnoticed, that yours you
                                         gave from get
                                         go and when I at last returned the
                                                                            sentiment, you rescinded
                                                                                               yours.  It
would be a deception to suggest that it doesn’t somewhat
                        (considerably) sting (as close as we did eventually
                                                    stand)but I allowed the pittance, waded in it,
                   took
                   the offering, in trust and that permits me peace and
license now to swell from this horizontal standing ground
                       which only ever kept me down.  I’m quickly
                                                                        discarding any hint or
                                                                                                       notion
                                                                                                           that I
                                                                                                           have no
right to
write.  It’s therapeutic and who doesn’t have the right
     to heal?  I’m laying claim to making good on all allegiance
        hereby non-observed.  All you have left to do is continue tune
me out, turn me off.  Done. 
          The counter-poison serves as balm
                                                                  but in the end
                                                                        I’ll die.  So, my words,
I’ll
no longer use as darts,
                    swallow all lingering resentments.  I’m improving

daily, shiny. 
         “So raise your glass if you are wrong in all the right ways.”
Whether I’ll find there’s more to say, I can not
                                                            say at present just
                                                                     that I’m wrapping up for now
                                                                      the exanimate phantasm
where I was – what?
                  and you were dashing, brave.  I suppose a peace
                                                                                      offering is
                                                                                              in order and so
my resignation.  I never was quite war-like enough
but
  that’s for your sex and not mine.  Doves depart
     as you all search out, relentlessly, some unnamed and invisible
                           enemy.  I’ll
                                            leave you to it and I have my thoughts but
                                                               those, I’ll leave to me.   My
final solo
           sings but one last note:  I, after all,
                                           am not
                                                     that woman in the woods.  For, I could
                                                                          never, seven years after, hold a
coward as he made amends.  God would and he’d forgive but I
    would have boarded ship, and never would return.