They see me as strong
And I am
With every strike, I pause and step back up
With every tear-down, I turn the other cheek, braced for the next
I am strong
Each morning that I wake and think that I can’t. I move my legs to the edge of the bed and rise again
With every failure, I chalk it up, determined to learn and do better.
I am strong
It’s funny when they think I don’t know I am strong, that listing my abilities will help me see
Except I know that I am
I find Hope in the darkest corners
I find pleasure in intimacy despite the abuse
I choose God’s plan over fatalistic despair
I choose compassion for those that wound
I find humour in moments that are empty
I uncover my smile in the hours where I simply what to disappear
I am strong.
Even on the days when I feel broken inside
I am strong
But I cannot wait to be weak, to fall with a soft landing; to find a space to be held, to be loved for my strength but also my frailty.
I cannot wait to feel safe enough, where my small world will not collapse if I need to, for just an hour or two.
Perhaps I will never find that in someone else
Perhaps it is a gift I must learn to give myself. The time to hide, to hibernate, to not cope, to withdraw.
To be frail and weak.
And all of that will be okay
Because I will also always be strong.
