~Title Currently Undecided~

COURAGE: by Anne Sexton

It is in the small things we see it. 

A child's first step. 

As awesome as an earthquake.

The first time you rode a bike,

wallowing up the sidewalk.

Your first spanking,

when your heart went on a journey all alone.

When they called you crybaby, 

or poor, 

or fat, 

or crazy,

and made you into an alien. 

That is when you drank their acid, 

and concealed it.

Later,

if you have faced the death of bombs and bullets, 

you did NOT do it with a banner. 

You did it with only a hat to cover your heart.

You did not fondle the weakness inside you,

though it was there. 

Your courage was a small coal that you kept swallowing.

If your buddy saved you and died in the process,

then his courage was not courage.

It was love; as simple as shaving soap.

Later,

if you have endured a great despair,

then you did it alone.

Getting a transfusion from the fire,

picking the scabs off of your heart,

then wringing it out like a sock.

Next,

my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow.

You gave it a back rub, covered it with a blanket;

and after it had slept a while it awoke with the wings or roses, and was transformed.

Later,

when you face old age and it's natural conclusion your courage will still show in little ways.

Each spring will be a sword you will sharpen.

Those that you love will live in a fever of love, 

and you'll bargain with the calender.

At the last moment when death opens it's doors you'll put on your carpet slippers, and stride out.

~~((Hi, this is your author leaving a little note for everyone. This story is a journey of mine. Writing this story is for myself more than for you, the audience reader. This story is my way of venting, processing, and articulating my experiences and feelings back at myself. So make sure to keep that in mind when starting this story))~~