Decades before I failed to be an honorable person I had a best friend who deserved better than me. She was the type of girl who spoke her mind and loved everyone she allowed into her life intentionally. If any person set out to tell her what she could not do, she was determined to prove them wrong. She was the first of a few brave lady warriors I came to appreciate and know. The female warrior does not stand for disrespect or take bad behavior with her tongue in cheek. She calls you out. Her fierce power requires you take ownership of your faults. She will look for a reason to save you even after you have let her down. If you are lucky–if you have been the worst version of yourself and she still loves you, count this as the ultimate blessing. She knows you are not perfect that you can be a jacked up human being. She will attempt to appeal to your humanity. She will pray for your freedom from damaging perspectives and debilitating beliefs. She will never stop fighting for what she believes. She is an unstoppable force capable of impossible feats. Like, extending an olive branch to a friend she does not even need.
I just hope I am worthy.
Hard hearts have explanations for everything they do.
They speak with pause and draw borders around them.
They do not know openness.
They harden at the sign of hopefulness.
I may have a lot I want to say but I cannot effectively communicate with all this junk in my chest.
It’s like singing with bronchitis. Your voice comes out hoarse, your song–useless.
I cannot hear beyond my feelings.
I operate from my broken place.
Isn’t it so much easier this way?
To continue walking away instead of making a change?
Hard hearts do not want different–they prefer the comfort of their cell.
I mean shell.
That hard exterior a lot of us know so well.
Because it’s easier to step back, dig in deep with your wounds.
And refuse to let anybody get close to you.
Like a porcupine–you prick.
You throw jabs and radiate defensiveness.
Still singing your tenuous song. Hapless and boastful.
Empty and long.
This position keeps you guarded just enough to ensure you never have to move.
“He who sets the pace, controls the fight.” That is all you know how to do, right?
But we are much less fighters than we are battered and bruised–
Victims of misinterpretation.
Carriers of insubordination.
Pursuers of retaliation.
I should have just apologized for hurting you.
Untreated wounds become infections and spread to the latter parts of you.
Like cancer, destroying health.
Like conflict, dividing unity.
Like silence, deprives of peace.
To soften is to burden my heart with the pure unadulterated truth.
I should have just apologized, I was wrong for hurting you.