RESILANT
RESILIENT
I am not a fence, nor a wall of unyielding stone,
Built to divide or defend against the world's relentless tide.
No, I am a woman, raw and unraveling,
My guts spilled loose in my trembling hands,
Exposed to the wind's cruel whisper, the sun's indifferent glare.
I cradle them like fragile relics from a battlefield within,
Tracing the veins of my own unraveling heart. Learning to love differently is a labor of thorns,
A path strewn with shards of old habits, sharp and unyielding.
It demands I unlearn the armor I've forged in silence,
The shields raised high against the ache of letting in.
Each step forward pulls at the seams of my soul,
Tearing open wounds I thought long healed,
For love in new forms is a storm that reshapes the shore,
Eroding the familiar, carving canyons where comfort once lay. Don't assume, because my words rise like thunder, fierce and unbowed,
That I am always a fortress, impervious to the fray.
Strength is not a constant flame; it flickers in the dark,
A candle guttering against the breath of doubt.
I speak boldly to mask the quiver in my voice,
To summon courage from the echoes of my fears.
Beneath the roar, I am tender, a leaf in the gale,
Vulnerable to the slightest shift in the air. What moves me surges like a river in flood,
Crashing through the chambers of my being,
Filling every crevice with its wild, untamed force.
It swirls with joy and sorrow intertwined,
A torrent of memories, dreams, and unspoken longings.
But it does not linger; it moves through me, relentless,
Carving deeper grooves into my weary frame,
Then ebbs away, vanishing into the horizon's haze. And in its wake, I am left hollow, echoing,
Empty as a storm sewer after the rains have fled,
The gutters cleansed but barren, slick with residue.
No trace of the deluge remains, save the faint drip of aftermath,
The quiet pooling of what was washed away.
Yet in this emptiness, I gather myself anew,
Piecing together the fragments, learning once more
To fill the void with a love that's reshaped, resilient, mine.
Built to divide or defend against the world's relentless tide.
No, I am a woman, raw and unraveling,
My guts spilled loose in my trembling hands,
Exposed to the wind's cruel whisper, the sun's indifferent glare.
I cradle them like fragile relics from a battlefield within,
Tracing the veins of my own unraveling heart. Learning to love differently is a labor of thorns,
A path strewn with shards of old habits, sharp and unyielding.
It demands I unlearn the armor I've forged in silence,
The shields raised high against the ache of letting in.
Each step forward pulls at the seams of my soul,
Tearing open wounds I thought long healed,
For love in new forms is a storm that reshapes the shore,
Eroding the familiar, carving canyons where comfort once lay. Don't assume, because my words rise like thunder, fierce and unbowed,
That I am always a fortress, impervious to the fray.
Strength is not a constant flame; it flickers in the dark,
A candle guttering against the breath of doubt.
I speak boldly to mask the quiver in my voice,
To summon courage from the echoes of my fears.
Beneath the roar, I am tender, a leaf in the gale,
Vulnerable to the slightest shift in the air. What moves me surges like a river in flood,
Crashing through the chambers of my being,
Filling every crevice with its wild, untamed force.
It swirls with joy and sorrow intertwined,
A torrent of memories, dreams, and unspoken longings.
But it does not linger; it moves through me, relentless,
Carving deeper grooves into my weary frame,
Then ebbs away, vanishing into the horizon's haze. And in its wake, I am left hollow, echoing,
Empty as a storm sewer after the rains have fled,
The gutters cleansed but barren, slick with residue.
No trace of the deluge remains, save the faint drip of aftermath,
The quiet pooling of what was washed away.
Yet in this emptiness, I gather myself anew,
Piecing together the fragments, learning once more
To fill the void with a love that's reshaped, resilient, mine.
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