Horse

I remember reading a character of Cisneros; her youthful rebellion against waiting on the hand of mournful regret on embracing hand; a sign that the wild horse-women have given up.  I hope we are just waiting.  

Unlike Nenny, I am no Magdalena, allowed to be softer when I come home; I am not even Esperanza growing up too fast; which is more than I can say about my daughter; also born in the year of the horse.

I wanted to cover up the dragon tattoo I etched into my skin so long before I knew what it meant, not even knowing that an Asian horoscope existed, only to find the dragon to be the year of two-lovers (twelve years apart) and an ex-husband –all horrid.  All wrong.

Many argue that I should have put the tattoo on top of the weak symbol, but I chose my own symbolic form.  Rather than cover up my past, the horse rides above the dragon with powerful front legs; a constant reminder of overcoming.

My children will know what it means to treat women well.  My daughter will not settle for abuse of any kind, and my son will NEVER justify any violence (seen or unseen) toward women.  

I am more than a horse.  I am a mother.  I am a survivor.