He sees me at a distance
from the Salvation Army.
The soft glow of my white hair,
My short stature & square hips.
A slight limp, my stride is slow.
I am an easy mark to a
desperate bully.
Mam! Mam!
Come here!
Come here!
It’s like he’s found his prize.
He doesn’t see these deep lines
tracing the fingerprints of my soul
on my small face. Each mark, a scar,
a battle won. I am no kitten!
Come HERE! He commands.
I hear shouts of dominance,
impatience, & irritation.
Does he think I’ll cross to HIS side!?
I veer into the parking lot of a bank.
It’s CLOSED!
Mam! He is crossing the
street in pursuit of me.
Come HERE! He demands.
I take to the ATM area to get to
Broadway. He’s advancing!
Leave me alone! I yell.
Go AWAY!
He’s on my back.
MAM! MAM!
Give me MONEY!
Leave me alone!
Go AWAY NOW!
I do not cower to extortion.
My duty is to self!
Give me MONEY! MONEY!
He flashes the cigarette butt
burning into his fingers.
He shows his teeth,
planted cock-eyed behind
tense lips.
I show him my eyes. The flames,
my light, my shield, my sword.
I am no stranger to bullies.
NO MONEY!
GO AWAY!
I advance to his face.
My scars deepen as I scowl.
My spirit finds its gateway.
My light is charged.
He persists, speaking loudly in
Another language, but not imploring.
He isn’t my tribe. He doesn’t know
the rules here.
I’ve read the Art of War.
“Do not press a desperate
soul too hard,” says Sun Tzu.
But I assess the enemy’s slight build.
If he touches me,
I’ll advance & strike him
under the jaw with the root of
my palm & throw him into the
ATM. His cries will be filmed.
MONEY! NOW!
He practically hits me with his
near-empty bottle of Dr. Pepper.
I see no tears or cries
for pity. Only dominance
over an old lady.
“Show your banners &
beat your drums,” says Sun.
I glare at the offender,
Don’t let my shape deceive you,
I am a round stone
gaining momentum down a steep slope.
I will sweep you away
into a chasm.
Still he demands money. His tone,
You, Woman, give me money!
NO! I yell.
Leave me ALONE!
Go AWAY!
Sun Tzu says, “On contentious ground,
attack not. Lure the enemy by
pretending to flee.”
I open my purse & the perpetrator doesn’t
grab it. He thinks I’m getting money, but
I take out the phone.
Police! I’m calling the POLICE!
911! POLICE!
I gather myself, my troops, & my honor.
I withdraw slowly onto Broadway,
my eyes always on my foe.
I wave my phone as
a new saber.
The baying jackal curses me &
retreats into the shadows.
Battle bleeds another scar.
Victory, purifying fire.
Harmony, restored.
“Such is the art of warfare,”
says the smiling Sage.
©Barbara Harris Leonhard, extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog
Image: Google search, Sun Tzu, The Art of War
