A Sheltered Life Chapter 7.1

VETERANS DAYPostscriptJust a little addition here because I feel the need to bring it up and fold it into this story. It's just one of the issues that make up the darkside of me. It happened in the past but the lines that flow from it are apparent to me in the anger that grips me at times. I feel this anger but it's not that strong when I write about the shelter. Ms. Payne doesn't make me this angry, but some of the women, the animals in the shelter do. Don't worry, they have nothing but the power of God to fear. I also want to include some poetry that I felt had to be written at Halloween time at the shelter. These women made an impression on me and once again I felt the need to put it to paper. THE LISTThe sign said Dallas 300 miles. "I am not afraid", I think to myself over and over, again and again. Other thoughts keep surfacing too. Like "What will she do without you?" and "Who's gonna protect her from fuckers like this?" and "I failed one child, I won't fail another."I spent years looking up or down or even to the side, just as long as it wasn't straight ahead. Straight ahead, a direct arrow to the dark anger that had entered my soul the night it all fell in my lap on Carson Street.The men were fighting, sons against Dad. Dad, who's own life would never be the same again. The son's were angry and scared. Throat cancer!!! Angry seeing a cigarette on his lips, beer cans all around him as he deals with his own demons in the wide open space that acts as both livingroom and bedroom to this troubled couple.A strike and he falls to his knees, elder son holding younger son back while the soon to be mom looks on in distress. It all seemed to surreal. You know, you've seen it in movies or heard about it in one of those documentaries where folks are all doing testimonials about near death experiences and claiming to see it all unfold from above. "That was what happened to me" this one said or "There was this light" that one would say. Well, it did happen. I was floating while my two feet were firmly planted on this earth, on that carpet in that room on Carson Street. I could see myself moving around or between or in the faces of all of them. I could see the sweat, the furrowed brows, the bloody knuckles from punching the wall. I could smell the adrenaline,the pheromones. I see myself yelling, swinging punches, picking up the man who's life had changed. I say myself go into the room to speak with the young one who was hurting, bursting to tell me something, something from the past. Then it was all out, finally it was all out and the rush of it as your mind comes into focus. The little boy who told me he didn't want to go to ANNE PINON'S house. He hated JOHN, HATED JOHN, HATED JOHN. The kidsplay with the rope that turned into something vile. The little sister with deep emotional problems. The acting out, not trusting ANYONE."I will never go to Dallas again!" I told them all some seven years ago. "I will hunt that bastard and then I'll kill the little fucker!!" But not before I make him suffer and bleed. No death before I make Him scream and beg. Oh, no easy death for you JOHN, I will come apart all over YOU first before you expire in my presence, before my very angry eyes.And I've been true to my word, until that night. I felt cold, hard, angry. I really wanted to hurt someone and in 2009 the reason was handed to me in the form of abduction. For 19 days all I wanted to do was KILL THEM ALL. I wanted to smash them, squish them, feel warm liquid beneath bare feet, walk over their crushed bones and teeth, spit on them all then set them ablaze. Then I would dance, dance like I used to before I married this man who's jealousy drove me to another for revenge. After listening to him rant and drunkenly go on and on and on about his suspicions, despite my best efforts for over seven years, I warned him that he doesn't know me very well, even ofter all this time, and that when I choose to prick him, he would bleed forever from his heart and soul.But that night, two days after the abduction, I got in the car and drove down I35 N. like I was on fire. The fear of leaving her to this lot of selfish fools stopped me just as I hit Selma. I had a different mission to tend to. This JOHN IS A DEAD MAN mission would have to wait. I turned around and went back to the Internet where I launched my campaign. I used every resource I could find, every lead followed to the end and success was mine after 16 days of darkness. "There you are little one, Grandma's coming for you", I told her over the phone while they listened in over the speaker. "Be a good girl and stay sweet because I'm coming for you." The days of the phone ringing off the wall, the threats from the scumbag boyfriend stating that he was coming to my house to get me and me telling him "I'll be waiting outside for ya' motherfucker so bring it!!" The scuzzy whore STACY who helped her in the first place and then calling to lord over those of us who were looking for the child. The post from AUNT VANESSA and AUNT GINA who thought they knew what was what and had chosen to aid in the abduction. "Bring it on babies" I posted as well as other things posted by me and other family members and friends online, all of us on high alert and in furious mode. The line were drawn, the gauntlet was thrown to the ground and IT WAS ON!! It was worth the fighting and the tears because the solution was coming. It came in the form of parental rights through the public school system. A wise woman who observed my suffering and stress came up with it and IT WAS BRILLIANT!! The police could do nothing and the lawyers could do nothing. BUT the public school system could by way of compulsory education, mandatory attendance and open records. The key was already in my hands by way of biological parent. It was what made it so easy for parents to run off with kids in the first place. And now it was My tool, My weapon and OH how I loved wielding it. It took only three days to put into motion, this gift, but I wasn't stopping now and if harping was what it took then nagging and veiled threats it is. Enter son stage right: previous school to get the current school and we were off to withdraw her and bring her home. The campus police and the principal tried to intervene on mommy's behalf but we were not deterred and we threw our rights into the ante and won the hand with a royal flush. They had no choice, they brought her to us and we drove her back to the home she's known since she was two. We enrolled her in her school with her classmates and friends she's known since she was four. We made our stand at the same house, never hiding but blatantly making our statement as we always have. A statement loud and clear that This is her home and These are her friends and if you tread on us we will hunt you down and set things right. To this day she has a much better relationship with her Mom. But it will never leave me, not completely. And someday, when she's all grown up and living her own life, I'm gonna pull out that list I have in my head and I'm gonna go after you JOHN. You will be my beginning, my spectacular beginning JOHN. Then I'm coming for you others, you know who you are and why you're on the list to begin with.So one day, when you see this statuesque old woman coming towards you with a somewhat telling smile on her lips.....KABOOM BABY!This came from me at a difficult time and I feel the need to include this here. Since my ending up at the shelter was due to domestic violence, I felt it necessary to share how the circle wasn't quite broken yet. With this new generation we all decided it must come to an end. I feel that I ended mine on October the fifth of 2011. As for the poetry I wrote over a two day period. Well, that was brought on by the incident on October 28th. I felt triumphant and saddened at the same time. The urgency to write down as much as I could was overwhelming. I think I knew then that my time at the shelter was coming to an end. Never underestimate intuition.THE WRENSThere they go.The members may have changedBut it's still the same click.They travel in groups of three mostly.It's like high school all over again.In the cafeteria, the schoolyard, the restroom.Like mood rings stuck in warm to cold water.If the alpha is happyThen the whole group plays happy.There's no one individual in attendance.Sometimes one of them breaks away.These are the ones that make my day.And I feel proud for them.Fly little bird fly.10-30-11STRANGE LOVEShe's crying in the hallway.It's heart wrenching, she's so young.It's a private moment so I look away.Broken hearts, I know that pain.To be all alone surrounded bySo many open shoulders.She rejects the one that reared herAnd tries so hard to go it alone.Other shoulders are offered.But these cold, hard frames don't knowThe true meaning of what the heart sings.Even she can't express it in words.Interfering and spicing a boiling potOnly spoils the soup of first love.I keep my distance and try to keep my tongue.Inside, and when I'm aloneI cry for her and her broken dreams.10-30-11THE SAFE PLACEAll the literature,The guidelines,The Rules.And still we don't feel safe.The one who hits you with fistsAnd words is locked out there.But what about the monstersThat are locked up inside hereWith US.Wickedness is a clever beastWho finds all the best placesTo hide.It leers at you, watches you.Then the pounce, the ambush.Prey is abundant in a placeLike this.You soon discover that The KnightsOf 24 hours aren't always on duty.They're spread so thinYou can see the bare spots.But so do the monsters.A Band of Mommies.That's what is needed here.10-30-11PASSING THE MESSAGEIt's the perfect time to call.The place is deserted.It's Saturday and sunny.What a beautiful day."Hola Chicka" and then The Laughter, the littlePiece of Outside SunshineYou so desperately seek.The assurances that all is well,That the healing process is on track.You can hear you joys'Playing in the background. It's time for Halloween And there's a Festival.Costumes are on, faces are being painted.Concerns come through the handset.You are not alone,You have supporters out there.Your heart soars and reaches you lips.She hears you and wants to speak.I love you baby with I love you too right back.But then He intrudes on evenThis little bit of innocenceWith His message of tainted love.10-30-11THE SALT OF THE EARTHA deep throated chuckle escapes.Even in the wee hours of the morningShe has a smile and a hello for you.Seeing a struggling motherShe lends more than a hand.Aware of the manipulations,She administers her gift to theChildren, the gift of compassionOozing from her onto their little heads.Touching hearts in her salty ways,She shines and but a few can seeThe aura that is so boldly displayed.Not expecting payment for anythingShe does for another.And the look of unconditionalAppreciation so evident on her faceAnd in her eyes with the tinyOffering of coffee, creamer and pan dulceAs we start another busy day.Oh wise one, battle worn you are.God's salt of the Earth.You will be forever blessed.(I told Mary Nunez this poem was about her when she really needed a friend. It somewhat describes her but was truthfully written for Brenda Rosales)10-30-11VEILED THREATSHappy soundsSo Playful and loud.Running, chairs scrapingAcross the grouted floor."Stop that now orI will slap the shit out of you"So quietly hissedSo as not to be heard.Then loudly stated"I hate these rags,they are so thin" and"How are WE supposed to clean this mess upWith these?" says the young womanFor all the hear.There are three tiny ones with her.The faces wary and then happyAs the threats are forgotten and Mom decidesThat now is the time to play.But I see you, I hear you, you monster.Not fair to state that reallyAs you are just a baby yourself.But you know you're doing something wrong.That's why your cycle will continue.Pride, resistance to change, arrogance.You know enough toMake it secret though.That make you the monsterI clearly see today.10-30-11THE WARNINGShe woke from slumberDue to concern for me.The language barrier meant Nothing to this wise one.Cuidado I was told.She went on for some timeIn an animated way, hushed.It doesn't take a rocket scientistTo see that hatred wasThe center of this warning in the dark.No problema Senora, I tell her.Seems the Light and the MoonOf many a mom hereWas under attack, and rightly so.You poor petty things. What are you hiding?But more importantly,Where are your priorities?Your children come first, allChildren come first.It appears to me that Many here have forgotten that fact.10-31-11(i wrote this particular piece in reference to The Incident. Seems many of the Hispanic women at the centerfound Victor and Alejandro desirable. Yucky!!