You're the beginning of the end of me
I come from a long line of women with rhythm in their hips, juju at their fingertips, and enigma on their lips. Women who are sometimes afraid but still face the vengeful storm. We do not bite our tongues. In spite of our best efforts, even the most quiet, the most tactful the most gentle among us is known to speak truth freely. Because of these women, I have never doubted my agency even when my power was constrained by my gender, my race, my poverty, my body. Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that these women could walk into a room and turn every head because of the beauty of their spirits; in spite of the fact that their laughter made you feel warmer than the sun; in spite of the fact that their delicate strong hands could heal any wound and handle any labor -- they were frequently weak when it came to love.
It would seem that there should be no downside to hope and resilience. When we, the women of my family, love, it is a primeval, vast, grinding thing. It is a beast we feed with our souls. It is a hope we sustain with our blood. Unfortunately, when we love the wrong someone, someone who is not strong enough to withstand the hurricane that is we, someone who lacks the acuity of vision to see the form within the chaos, someone whose spine is not limber enough to adjust to the infinite shifts of our moods, our creativity; when we love unwisely, we become unwell and are too strong to let go.
Most of us see the writing on the wall yet still wait until it's way too late to read it. So, we have to work to give up a little sooner, to be a bit less steadfast, to know when to cut and run, to be strong enough to be weak.
But there's something about love, something magical, that makes us want to dive deeply. When your body resounds like an instrument in your person's hands, when your heart beats to the rhythm of every love song you hear, when you are transformed into moan and sigh and gurgle just from catching a glimpse of your love's smile, well, it's hard to defend against that.
Defense Against the Dart Art