"My Declaration of Independence"

 

            Over the last half year, a friend caused me pain and sorrow. The details don’t matter. In the past, the old me would’ve accepted her cut-and-paste explanations that appeared in a few texts and with birthday and Christmas cards. My weaknesses to walk in another person’s shoes to understand their reasons would’ve made me not only accept her excuses, but empathize with her. My desire not to cause waves or do anything more that would risk our friendship would’ve led me to mentally offering her a period of grace to remedy the hurt.

            My self-talk, in the past, would’ve gone like this: She really is extremely busy. She isn’t intentionally leaving me out. She wants to see me, but other people take priority.

            “Past Me” would’ve provided even more excuses for her beyond the artificial ones she repeatedly gave. I would’ve talked myself into believing her wishes superseded mine. I would’ve responded to her minimal contact with upbeat, understanding texts or calls.

            My best friend died this spring from Alzheimer’s. Sometimes she initiated contact with me, and we’d circle round, round, round and round with her memories or her latest obsessive topic. Her steadfast love for me never wavered. When she called me twenty times a day, I’d stop whatever I was doing to rerun the same conversation. It didn’t matter. I could remember the girls and women we once were, even if she couldn’t. With our last conversation, we talked of music and our dogs. She knew me in that moment, and held me special in her life.

            This other friend’s rejection, no matter how I tried to justify or rationalize it, made me realize that “Past Me” needed to be buried once and for all.

            I wrote a letter.

            Hand written.

            Posted just like hundreds of other letters sent to this friend.

            I released her from any obligation she may feel to continue our bond.

            I wrote my own Declaration of Independence. I repeated her many excuses sent to me that proved she no longer needed me. I reminded her of our history together and added that the tapestry that we sewed together had tied its final knot.

            This Declaration marked an important change for me. I’ve come to realize that friends should grace my life and not diminish me.

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Righteous Anger"

 

because you yell the loudest   

TYPE IN ALL CAPS    

divide and pontificate with provocation  

you lay claim to justification    

you demean those who disagree    

through a false sense of superiority    

you lash out with vindictiveness    

choosing to injure and belittle    

you suck others into your fallacies    

with endless word manipulations    

you deride and insult    

to defend your flawed and mistaken reasoning    

you rationalize your anger and hatred    

by looking at everyone    

but yourself    

you are mean    

you are cruel    

you love no one    

this is your failure    

your loss    

your inability that wounds    

your harshness that kills    

your unhappiness that warps and destroys    

so scream out your      

righteous anger    

louder, louder, louder    

until you become hoarse    

until fatigue forces you to pause    

until you must be silent    

then listen to the echoes of your loneliness    

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

"Even in the Beginning"

 

even in the beginning

your smiles never reached your eyes

your innocuous words disguised your intent

as your fear festered into resentment 

even in the beginning

you ignored overtures of friendship

your instinctive defenses kicked into place

as your panic mired you into an abyss of hatred 

even in the beginning

your radar sounded alarms

your battle instincts honed your cruelty

as your protection of family obsessed you

even in the beginning

your projections became reality

your denials and lies believable

as you rewrote history to fit your views

even in the beginning

your rationalizations rang with sincerity

your bitterness overtaking your soul

as you attacked to annihilate a phantom 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Dysfunctional Family"

 

Dysfunctional family that no one wants to see   

Exploding into my face, killing complacency     

A brother-in-law irate since children want to play   

Yells at and bullies young girls, hurts me along the way   

Too many years of silence--turning the other cheek   

Too many days of hiding, of being mild and meek   

The banked fire broke out in flames, searing words were spoken   

Eyes burning, stomach churning, the control was broken   

Children in adult bodies wanting to have their say   

One powerfully monstrous, the other flees away   

A vain struggle in the car would certainly be lost   

Overpowered by brute strength, no way to bear that cross   

Faked submission to bring calm-- hands folded, eyes downcast   

False apologies offered, but nothing that will last   

Dysfunctional family that no one wants to see 

 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Righteous Anger”

because you yell the loudest   

TYPE IN ALL CAPS    

divide and pontificate with provocation  

you lay claim to justification    

you demean those who disagree    

through a false sense of superiority    

you lash out with vindictiveness    

choosing to injure and belittle    

you suck others into your fallacies    

with endless word manipulations    

you deride and insult    

to defend your flawed and mistaken reasoning    

you rationalize your anger and hatred    

by looking at everyone    

but yourself    

you are mean    

you are cruel    

you love no one    

this is your failure    

your loss    

your inability that wounds    

your harshness that kills    

your unhappiness that warps and destroys    

so scream out your      

righteous anger    

louder, louder, louder    

until you become hoarse    

until fatigue forces you to pause    

until you must be silent    

then listen to the echoes of your loneliness    

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman