Tending the Future
Cracked Nails, Small Shoots
I remember the first accusation of promiscuity.
A barb that struck my teenage heart, still untouched by love.
Many people since have told me that bi is a synonym for untruthful.
Perhaps they see themselves unable to hold back,
Ready to devour every option the world has to offer.
Or unwilling to deny their curiosity.
Untouched by the duality of the love I can feel and
Denying the endless capacity of the human heart/
A thousand voices have told me,
Fearful with certainty,
That I am unlovable, or dirty.
Each word pointed like a knife,
Reaching into the soft places inside me to tear and claw with malice.
They cannot comprehend,
Hell, nor its threat, will not change me.
Expendable is not the word for my pride.
Prowling,
Aching,
Resplendent in bloody-headed, scarred glory.
A farmer more than a warrior, I am
Desperate for unity.
Each failure feeds the ground beneath my bloody fingers.
Every battle lost progresses the war,
No retreat nor surrender will be sounded.
Darling one of the future this fight is for you.
Savour what peace my pain can buy.
About the Creator
S. A. Crawford
Writer, reader, life-long student - being brave and finally taking the plunge by publishing some articles and fiction pieces.
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