You taught me that at my weakest, I will not surrender. 

Your words, meant to sting my soul and penetrate my flesh,

 while permeating my mind and body, are denied entrance.

Your actions meant to leave an imprint on me like bleach to cloth,

have dissipated like the images we draw on fogged-up windows.

Every time I hear your name or am startled,

You hope I think of you and remember the pain you inflicted.

You fail to realize your name, even when uttered,

does not conjure fear, hostility or anger, but reminds me that I am alive.

You thought you could take the word no away from me like it was your word to give to the world.

My right to exclaim no will echo through these walls of mine. 

You inadvertently taught me the beauty of facing my fears. 

Cars will honk their horns, there will be crowds of people and music will radiate through a room

But I no longer escape these noises, shutting myself off from the world.

You thought enacting restraint would prove your strength.

You, poor soul, are weak,

fore denying someone their choice is the most despicable act there is.

I am not a statistic. I am not a number on a chart, 

or one more woman you have conquered.

I am a goddess determined to shine as bright as the sun. 

The only thing I associate you with, is my noble gift of perseverance.

Because of you, I have seen my darkest days,

but because of you I have lived to know the sun will shine again.

Its rays will glide over my shoulders.

I am a survivor who will face my worst days with a smile on my face.

I thank you for allowing me to see that I can harness my pain to procure strength. 

From disaster and turmoil, there is that silver lining. 

When I speak or write of you,

You are another line in a chapter of my story. 

I do not crinkle the page and toss it away in a wastebasket, like a useless morsel.

I turn that page and close that chapter.

That page may be from a dark chapter from an untold story,

but that chapter is mine and mine alone.

It reveals the hidden super-power that we all possess;

the power to embrace your past, flaws and all,

without clinging to it like a dingy stuffed animal,

that you cannot tear yourself away from.

You are a part of that past.

I made the choice to leave you behind. 

I can now look through the blurry image I once saw staring back at me in the mirror,

too ashamed to stare back at her,

and see a clear image of a woman who is healing.