I am going to do a blog post on this one, because most who would see this poem would not understand the story behind it. Earlier in my life I was in a bad relationship with someone who should have cared and protected me, but instead they decided to sex traffic me. During this time, I still needed to take care of my kids, work a full time job also. A co-worker figured out what was going on and then began a twisted tangled relationship with a co-worker who took advantage of my bad situation to have sex with me. He was a sexual aggressor too. I found this out later, he had been fired from a few jobs for being improper with some employees.
So I was being victimized between the two of them. He would randomly show up at my house and I was just expected to go. It was so difficult for me. I wanted to be with my kids, to not see this person. The person who was trafficking me was turned on by the thought of me being with other men. So if “John” showed up, I was expected to go and I could not escape it, out of fear. Fear of losing my children. Fear of losing my life. For two plus years this relationship existed. I lived in terror, fear and humiliation.
Then came the day I found my strength to stand and say no more. I think it took my Grandmother dying to find the courage to say enough, regardless of what happened. Knowing I might lose everything, I risked it all for my freedom to break free from the both of them. I had a daughter, what kind of an example was I being to her if I continued. I had a son, was he supposed to grow up and see this is how women were treated? All of these were questions that ran through my mind at the time.
With time I learned there were a few types of men. Those who were horrified by what happened to me, those who were turned on by it. The first group broke into two categories. Men who truly wanted to help but in no way shape or form would ever consider me worth dating and tended to treat me kindly help me when needed but I clearly had a scarlet A. Then the other group who didn’t really care and were just great to me. Sad that it happened to me, but perhaps not fully grasping the scope of the damage I had. The latter group was divided too, those who felt ill a bit by their attraction, but still tried to do the right thing. Then the remainder would push until they got pleasure out of me then walk away. I learned to spot the last group a mile away. “John” was in this category, so was my trafficker.
Since he had been with me repetitively, he began to get possessive of me. When his own marriage began to fall apart, suddenly he turned to me as a prospect. Yeah I know right, like this is every woman’s fairy tale ending. This is one of the reasons I don’t believe in happy endings. What shocked me though is he actually was working up to propose to me. He wanted me to move in with him. Ergo the following poem.
Ebony as night
A single thread
My den of web
I am cold
You were bold
Thought to capture me
Clearly now you see
Around your heart
Trapped from the start
Carrie Lin R. Jones 11-6-1999 Revision May 30 2002©