I am staring at him. He sits with an egotistical smirk, leaning back in his chair, puffing on his cigar, he asks in a stony sarcastic voice “Tell me something? Am I not your purpose? Is this life not your purpose?”
Instantly my mind started rattling off all kinds of answers, but my mouth could not; would not move. I could not form a sound to explain to him that my purpose looked nothing like the place that I am living. In my purpose, I am strong, confident, secure, and filled with inspiration.
And although I was not there yet (in my purpose), I could feel its power in the door, in the opportunity that was covered by a thick bouquet of brilliant flowers that appeared in my dreams but my strength could not carry me. I couldn’t explain to him that his presence was overpowering me. It was making me weak. I was malfunctioning in his presence. I was not operating like I should.
His charming, seductive manner and perfectly skilled way of laying out words stimulated the intertwined weeds that flowed through his world. My world. He was manure and didn’t even know it. He was turning everyone that came into his presence into stone.
However, the makeup of his manure did not contain the ingredients needed to fertilize the flower that was buried deep inside me. The flower that was trying to grow through the stone. The flower that was trying to escape the watchful eyes that followed my anxieties.
He was a stone-hearted parasite and opportunist that was killing me. And I couldn’t figure out how to get rid of it? How to get rid of him?
Our Daughters (click here to read story on our daughters, sisters, friends fighting to be themselves in a world of weeds)
Photo: A beautiful piece of art that caught my attention and inspiration on the Atlanta Beltline.
©All words & images by Tanya Graham unless otherwise noted.