Saturday, April 12, 2014


And sometimes I need the space to be weak.
Not mandated from on high,
Or premised in man is strong, and woman is well....

But safe weak.
Weakness I can sit in as long as I need to.
Knowing I am attended to by he who compliments my brilliance,
And stands guard waiting to applaud my triumphant rise.

I am after all but a single grain of sand,
Before an ocean of life,
Clumped with a community of rough edges
Battered by waves,
Smoothed by touch,
Pressed into pearls or
Moulded into temporal edifices.

Non-metaphorically human
And sometimes weak.