I’ve become accustomed
To the voices in my head,
Castaways from my past
Who offer wisdom and practical advice
In navigating the spectacle called my life,
The Sunday School teacher reminding me
The best way to find resolution
Is by kneeling in prayer,
Granny passing along her recipe
For crisp oatmeal cookies dotted with raisins,
That sweet boy from my junior year
Who told me I had eyes like wild honey
And a smile that was even sweeter.
These voices gave me wise counsel
And much needed encouragement,
Adding depth to my thoughts
As I would contemplate impending decisions.
All was peaceful until you came on board.
Vain and cruel, your taunts still echo
Just below the conscious surface,
Whispers of “whore” as I put on my makeup,
Criticisms of my weight despite my dieting success,
Admonitions to sit down and shut up
Instead of standing and letting my voice ring out.
It’s been twenty years since your arrival,
Your presence in my head far outlasting
Your physical presence in my life.
The other voices have awakened
A long-dormant resistance in me.
Your derisions will no longer make me reel.
The tribe has spoken:
Get off their island,
And get the hell out of my head.