Most days she walks around feeling tense, on gaurd, as if bracing herself for a blow that might break something. I can sympathize with her because I can imagine how much energy she waste generating those stone walls of protection. I know how time-consuming it is to craft an impenetrable facade so that nobody can peer through and find out how vunerable we really are. We are strong, yet we have allowed the weak to trample on us time and time again, and thier are bruises. This morning I watched her carefully apply the make-up to conceal the scars, she hid the black eye with sunglasses, put on her lipstick and smiled. My heart, it weaps for her, 'cause she can't bring herself to the point where she can pack up the kids and move into the shelter.
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