My Bête Noire
Welcome Back!!! Happy Friday!! Last week, Rohini did such a wonderful job last week with a prompt that offered the opportunity to go either dark or hopeful, ominious or inspirational. Perhaps this post will offer a similar range.Bête noire is a French term literally translating to “black beast,” defined as a person or thing strongly detested, avoided, or feared.
Bête noire: A poetic invitation
My Bête Noire Has Wings
Bête noire.
A French expression meaning black beast—something strongly detested, avoided or feared.
Oh, I have one.
It waits in darkness.
Armoured.
Silent.
Watching.
Sometimes I know it is there before I see it. Perhaps some ancient instinct warns me that predator and prey have entered the same room.
Then something moves.
I freeze.
It freezes.
We stare at one another.
I tell myself to remain calm.
After all, I am a grown woman.
I have raised five children.
I have lived with horses.
Dogs.
Cats.
Turtles.
An African land tortoise.
Bearded dragons.
Animals don’t frighten me.
Then the beast opens its wings.
FLAP FLAP FLAP.
I scream.
Not a dignified scream.
Not the delicate little gasp of a heroine in a Victorian novel.
No.
I mean the kind of scream that suggests somebody should probably call the police.
Because my bête noire is…
the bloody Canary Island cockroach.
And not merely a cockroach.
A flying cockroach.
Whoever decided these creatures required aviation capabilities has a great deal to answer for.
People have tried reassuring me.
“It can’t hurt you.”
This information is completely irrelevant.
A creature does not need to hurt you when it can FLY AT YOUR FACE.
Once those wings open, all rational thought leaves my body.
I don’t care that I am approximately a thousand times its size.
I don’t care that it is probably more frightened of me than I am of it.
Actually, I strongly dispute that last one.
I’ve seen the way they fly.
There is no fear involved.
There is intent.
Possibly navigation problems, but definitely intent.
And the cats?
Useless.
They will happily hunt insects, lizards and anything else unfortunate enough to attract their attention.
But when I desperately need security personnel, they suddenly become spectators.
I swear they are thinking:
This should be entertaining.
Bella isn’t much better.
So apparently, despite sharing my home with enough animals to establish a small petting zoo, when the winged beast appears, I’m on my own.
People say we should confront our fears.
Face them.
Understand them.
Perhaps even embrace them.
Absolutely not.
I have no desire whatsoever to understand a flying cockroach.
And I certainly won’t be embracing one.
Some people boldly confront their bête noire.
Some make peace with it.
Some overcome their fear and emerge stronger, wiser and transformed.
I have chosen another path.
Scream.
Run.
Hide.
Call for backup.
And if necessary, surrender the room until someone else deals with it.
Is that cowardice?
Perhaps.
But Sarah did quote Shakespeare in this week’s challenge:
“To thine own self be true.”
Well, this is me being true to myself.
If a flying cockroach enters the room…
the room belongs to the cockroach.
Shakespeare would understand.
Probably.
😂😂💜
With love, coffee, poetry, and stardust,
— Maggie The Afterlove Voice 💫
https://ditto.fm/silenced-but-not-broken
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