gut

I will trust my one percent hesitation

Out of the ninety-nine reasons to follow

That were pre-recorded and thrust down my throat.

I will spit

Bile, and blood

Into your eyes

And cast a spell as I scrape at them

So you can only speak truth.

I will go by instinct, however blind

If it means standing up for my own heart.

I will don my armour, my chainmail and thick chestplate.

And I will slice my hair with knives until I am unrecognisable

Because no one interrupts my peace.

I will shout anthems,

Words of journeys made with unity;

Forged by artists we vow to in shared pain.

I will remember their voices, marching

As I choose to defend peace and choice, over and over again.

I will write my every thought

Onto scraps, skin, and spider webs

I will weave to seal their volume, and

Staple them together to form a story.

I will engrave wildflowers onto hilt and blade

As I train

So I will never feel unguarded, again.

These things I will do until the knot unties itself;

Until I fly with un-clipped wings.

You may forget, but I am a survivalist, a being of cunning and calm.

With time, practise and patience

I have learnt to trust the wisdom of seashells

And trace truth back to the roots of courageous flowers,

On the very inside of me.

Holding these gifts, I solemnly

Take note of how patience reveals character, buried between the flutters of butterfly kisses.

In the distance, comes the day I storm the tower and shout my chorus

To the shouts of others who choose to protect.

Now, we wait.

~