we are not fragile, my dear,
we are not broken.
And though wounded we have been,
stronger we have always healed.
we bite hard,
and their barks are
only soggy susurrations.
that's how we come out on top, darling,
every time,
even when they put us below.
we have stood silent, child,
silent,
but we have served well.
this has been our fight,
and we will fight to keep going, love,
as we have always fought to keep going.
we will fight until
it means something.
we will fight until small minds,
small hands,
recognize strong ones.
my dear, you are not a
burden,
you are not broken.
this is the restoration.
YOU ARE READING
Today, Love: An Anthology of Self
Poetryit's easier to define certain mysteries by what they are not
