As wine-making is a process--so Am I.
Just as grapes of wine endure pressing and trampling and agitation,
so have I. 
The force of my dilemmas crushed and squeezed, 
breaking the skin to liberate the contents of me,
Matters of seeds, that very well needed to be extracted
to produce a finer,
clearer me.

When life takes hold of your fruit,
to harvest carefully and ferment slowly
It is only right you pour out righteously,
the process that purified the heart painstakingly.
Because her voice--
wise
prophecy,
said, pour water in your wine, cherie
I did!

Through all the blending and fining,
sweetened
at times mellow,
I remain
Yet Vintage, Still Potent

I didn't fancy the label "baby momma," so I stole the title "wife." And somehow became a single marred mistress--all at the hands of the men I chose for me. 

I wanted to be like the other ladies in the sanctuary who flaunted matrimony. I wanted to be a noble woman walking in God's glory. I wanted to be everything except what I was. But who said what I was—wasn’t good enough for me? Had I not despised my loneliness, I would not have compromised my holiness, gave away my loveliness. 

But know this: the men of my past are no reflection of the woman who stands above ground today. Do not judge how I chose them when I was love hungry and desperate, flirting with vain hopes. If that woman had not died in the arms of those sweet talkers and false lovers, I wouldn't be alive today. 

Today, as this woman, I am my best lover. Though not popular, I am my own happy ending. This is my story.

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Photo Credit Larah McElroy