You know who you are...

My experiences with men
Have rarely been good;
Brought up by a bully,
Molested by a monster,
And intimidated by many more,
I have spent my life
Looking upon them
With fear and rage,
If not complete loathing.

Yet...

I've began to suspect
In recent years
That those who scarred me
Were, in fact,
Exceptions to the rule.
I have discovered that
Many men, within themselves,
Bear large, warm hearts,
Often disguised
In tacit grumpiness;
They are protectors
As well as warriors
Who would never have hurt me
In ways I have known,
And who, in fact,
Would have avenged me
And gifted me
With the many pounds of flesh
They flayed from my tormentors.
They are often poets
With their actions
As well as words,
But above all
They are knights,
Honorable and loyal;
Sometimes they are flawed,
Like Lancelot,
And occasionally untainted,
Throwbacks to Galahad;
But always and forever
To my traumatized heart
They all remain
My Sirs Gawain.