I blink my eyes, baffled.
What happened to my sword?
Where have I placed my shield?
I swear my words had bite…
How am I to go into battle unarmed?
“What battle?” you ask
This endless parade of day to day
and on I must fight, so I hoist myself up
from this bog of self-doubt and despair,
my stinking thinking.
I gather my thoughts around me; my smelly armor
fragments
various tangled musings
traces of my soul.
Once whispered
will they shrink and float away
a feather?
Or will the phronesis be found
to see past this illusion
of papery fragility
and use our words
to Fight?!
~Melanie Thomason
2/26/2020
The pen truly is mightier than the sword!
Certainly can be 🙂
I really like this
Once whispered
will they shrink and float away
a feather?
And papery fragility beautifully done
Thank you so much!
Wonderful poem and never, ever, ever, stop fighting back.
😀
Words are swords without the “s” at the front. I just saw this now, thanks to your wonderful poem!
They are indeed! Thank you, Resa 🙂
Each day can be a challenge. I find that more so with distant (as in mileage) relatives that really have no idea of my current life, and some do not care and others still try to be controlling. It my case the distance helps my sanity 🙂
So true.