The Girl Who Blocked Her Own Shot

I want you to know

That every time I face a blank page with a 

half-formed idea that I have to FORCE 

myself to pick the words that bring life 

Above 

the words that burn bridges,

Express bitterness

Or allow anger biased by hurt to freely 

flow.

I chose a life of words that heal

And I have to keep making that choice 

through every bit of pain I feel.

I can not afford to fall backwards.

When I see the arrows flung at me

As they often are by 

Those who do not use 

them as tools,

Those who do not know how to grow their 

own food, 

Or process their own pain,

Or express their own love,

When those arrows fly by my head

Or when one arrow –

Usually thrown by someone I love the 

most- 

Pierces my stomach,

Leaves me wounded,

but still alive to fight again,

That arrow I remove,

Re-sharpen,

And use to dig the earth.

I take that weapon covered in blood and 

tears 

and make it a tool.

It was never meant to keep hurting me!

I use it to dig,

To plant forgiveness,

To grow in peace,

To bring life.

That weapon in your hand has been

recommissioned to give life in mine –

Not to take it,

To grow food to share with others,

Not to starve me of human connection.

Could I deny the wound that still hurts?

I do not,

But the flower’s growing from my stomach 

Are now more sweet –

The food more flavorful I eat –

Than the shot you threw at our defeat. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s