She lives in her home with a white elephant,
Submissive, respectful, hushed, reverent.
She wearies herself
Trying to tidy the room,
Distraction might help
She so wrongly assumes.
So she paints the walls to keep herself busy,
This role now defines her, but it’s making her dizzy.
Told to cater and serve him
Blind to all the destruction,
Its presence alone, however
Causes quite the production.
She hears the bells ringing
So she dances around,
Gracefully moving and serving,
Not making a sound.
She thinks she can manage the beast so well,
Occupied by the ringmaster’s diversions from hell.
The elephant bleeds out,
There’s a mess on the floor.
The yellow wallpaper’s covering
The windows and door.
Grandfathered in from man’s tradition,
Creation order’s given him this “rightful” position.
She caters to pride in the name of submission,
Enabling abuse like it’s the great commission.
She’s danced to the song of,
“You Shouldn’t Confront!”
On her knees pleading,
“Lord, keep my mouth shut!”
She has cut herself down
Trying to serve the Master,
Resigned to defeat,
Declared victorious by her pastor.
The mess it’s caused is holding her captive,
Tossed in a sea of shame that’s completely radioactive!
This sea is fed from the beast bleeding out,
She’s drowning, she’s grieving,
Told the problem’s her doubt.
If she’d do “more of this” and do “more of that,”
She wouldn’t feel walked on like an old doormat.
“Emotions are the enemy!”
She’s warned by her “head.”
So she yields humbly in meekness,
Convinced she needs to be led.
The home she abides in,
She’s told is her joy,
A shelter, a safe place,
A suitable decoy.
She’s locked out the poachers
For fear of offense,
Barred the windows of her soul,
Rejecting recompense.
She can’t sweep this elephant under the rug,
Or cover the stench of its leftover dung.
She hangs curtains around
The big-bellied mammal,
But its appetite isn’t quenched
With just one damsel.
“Just give a little more of your worn-out self,
Offer your body at will and
Store up heavenly wealth!”
“Don’t worry about the porn
Presently competing,
Just keep hoping, keep interceding.”
She’s told these words
By people well-meaning.
Deception’s trapped them, too!
They’re confused by the bleeding.
They hold their ground with
“How it’s always been,”
They stand puffed up in their pride,
Steeped in their own sin.
She convinces herself:
It has to someday bleed out!
Then, suppresses the longing
To be released from her vow.
This theology is sinking,
That’s been built on the sand,
This unjust system,
Kept and established by man.
Finally released from the grip
That’s been holding her captive.
She learns she’s not at fault,
Just because she’s attractive.
She thought she’d figured out
What was troubling him,
Shocked, she discovered,
It didn’t pertain to her skin!
Pulling back those heavy curtains, like Dorothy from Oz,
Wide-eyed, she stands up, justified in her cause.
The light finally shining on that
Manipulating wizard:
A measly worm disguised
As a seven-headed lizard.
The hoarding, the messing,
The forgetting, the lack,
Things she thought seemed so small,
Had broken her back.
Convinced this “disability”
To stand up to such beast,
Had been reduced to nothing,
Taken from her, piece by piece.
Her Spirit bore witness; she’d been all along,
Empowered just as much,
To go where she was called.
Now standing in awe, in near disbelief,
She still grieves the years lost
To this red-handed thief.
For the bloody stained mess
She could never cover up,
A broken body’s been offered,
Jesus hands her a cup.
Able to partake
In what He had finished.
Able to rest,
Made too, in His image.
Not lesser than, not more,
Not voiceless, not poor.
The Man who offered His life
Is setting her free from depression!
Dancing now without worry,
In true self-reflection.
No more toxic empathy,
No more being fake,
No more guarding her reputation
Like it’s always at stake.
No more bowing down
To that white-washed tomb,
The bleeding white elephant
In the middle of the room.
It may still stand erect,
But it’s on paper-thin ice,
Because women are being set free
With the precious blood of Christ!
The ice may still remain,
But it’s starting to crack!
It’s the church’s stained glass ceiling,
But there’s no looking back.
That headstone’s now just a marker,
Full of lies and malarkey,
Pray Christ deliver all from
Abusive Patriarchy.
