"Be the
Words"
(“Timothy, my child,
Christ Jesus is kind, and you must let him make you strong.” 2 Timothy
2:1)
Where did the fight originate?
The one that started on the street and landed at the feet
of open mouthed bystanders who lived within inches
of the scraped knees that skid across uncrossed words
meant for lower targets.
Flames grab the minds with fist rarely squeezed until
a day, walking past a yesterday friend, she heard the words
that have no more spark than bare feet scuffling across
a dry day shag carpet and shaking hands with the first door
knob
inside.
But the words itched the tiny hairs within her hearing,
the diminutive bones inside her ears and without a snap
or spark to jump the gap from hurt to reason
the battle was drawn, the sides joined, the fight begun,
the coins of the realm minted to buy the truth
to prove who would lose and who had won.
So the strong thought. And so the weak responded.
So the bullies sneered. And so the prey still shivered.
The playgrounds and board rooms,
the courtrooms and ground rules,
the sanctuaries and park benches
are never out of bounds of humanities
skewed frames of reference.
Be strong, be kind; be the strong who is kind,
be the kind who kills with kindness,
be the strength who loves the abuser
without moving, words the firm with a whisper.
Be young and strong, the kind that defies newday dna,
be the kind who loves the victim
without prior approval, words the tender with eyes
unblinking.
