People try to tell me,
even now,
what strength really is.
‘Capable of exerting
great force’
they say,
but between you and me,
they are wrong.
Strength is not overt.
It doesn’t ever
muscle its way
into the spotlight.
It is subtle,
camouflaged,
you might say,
for it only shows itself
when the timing
is absolutely perfect.
***
Boadicea knew strength
as she raised
her spear
above her head,
and led
the charge.
Joan of Arc knew strength,
for even as the flames
licked
at her worn
leather boots,
she kept her head high.
***
Some people say
that strength is in
those few people who,
when life hits hits them hard,
they hit it back
without a second thought.
I say
that strength is
the tear
which runs down the face
of a person who doesn’t care
who sees them
fall apart.
***
Strength is like
a beautiful
butterfly,
delicate, hidden,
which then
its enemies.
In the beginning, strength ruled all.
