Wednesday, February 26, 2014

How to Put up a Fight

She thought she’d throw up but she spoke
He played with quivering hands
She gave the hug she wanted
He saw something alive in the ashes
Shattered, she stood taller
He knelt because it was time
Nowhere to run—she ran in place
No one to hear—he listened
The box was too small, she kicked it apart
He had no words so he sang
Too dark to see, she struck a match
He drew the beauty he craved
She made a quilt from the rags
He re-wrote the end of the dream

This is the battle
I’ve watched them, I’ve seen.




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5 comments:

  1. you capture life in your words. beautiful.

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  2. This. . .

    I'm back to read it for the third time. It sort of makes me want to cry. . .yet I feel hopeful at the same time.

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  3. I was nervous about posting this--thank you, friends. The hope, to me, is key, so I'm glad it came through Shonya!

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