We weep, yet we are not weak.
Tag: Strength
-
Calm yourself now anxious heart — do not despair in the face of frightening fear; do not yield; do not concede to the terror that causes even strapping men to shed tears. Do not fall on your knees when bruised petals forever lie still in cemeteries. Let not the venom of anguish take you or the endlessness of darkness break you. Remain faithful to the strength that birthed you. With all your might hold on tight and take flight on the wings of angels. You are beautiful through and through. Bravely fulfill your destiny, always taking heed to the whisperings of treachery of enemies that despise even the sight of your being. Close your eyes. Familiarize yourself with the darkness. See them coming without seeing. Lay traps and counterattack with a ferocity that will devastate and utterly shatter their long-held animosity. Betrayal thrives in secrecy, but the arrogant always display their true intentions loudly. Always listen intentionally and intently for the whispers of contempt that float softly. When trepidation falls upon you it will be vanquished with the calmness and stillness of an impenetrable armor. You shed tears, yet you are exceedingly stronger. You are released from the terror that has stalked your every waking hour. You once lived in fear, but in fear you live no longer.
-
You who suffer, you who are misunderstood,
and you who were unloved since childhood—
gather your hearts together, for there is comfort in unity, and a shelter.
Cry no more, for the abandonment of your fathers
or for the death of your beautiful mothers,
but let the soul that is within you,
strengthen you and strengthen others.
Raise your swords ye valiant men and women,
and with your battle cry, cut through the darkness;
spare nothing, and do not be merciful,
lest the darkness recovers in the void
and comes back to attack you in your slumber.
All ye mighty generals, that conquered and died in battle
lend us your resolute hearts,
that we may raise our banners of war in silent march.
We will carry on, even in the bitter cold of winter,
until the darkness is slayed and our swords rest upon its cursed grave—
but if there is nothing left of us, ye who come after us,
with our swords and armor bury us—
but do not weep for us when our bones return to dust.
Gather up your own hearts, sharpen your swords,
and let not there be frailty in the arms that wield the bow
or in the resonance of your words.
Before warfare, test the worthiness of your armor,
and in battle, strike your enemy with violent anger,
searing even the sinew, to strike down the darkness
that would steal your happiness
and snatch the light that is within you. -
She dies inside but wants to live.
The purging of years of pain is like giving birth again and again.
In labor she wails, pausing in-between screams to deeply inhale.
Her spirit carries her over peaceful waters, and she will not fail.
She is weary, but her resolve forces her to endure;
The day approaches when she will smile angelically
In the heavenly glow of her beauty and cry no more. -
Guide my hands oh Lord, and renew my resolve.
Strengthen me in my hour of truth,
and increase my courage to see the mission through.
The men in my care, hear their cries, and see their tears.
Restore their health quickly, so they can gird up themselves
and carry on in battle valiantly.
If they should face death, welcome them into your rest
where they will dwell in peace eternally.
Shield me from the attacks of the enemy,
and keep my hands steady.
Calm my heart in the face of the storm
so I can fulfill my duties and triage correctly.
Allow these men to find solitude in their pain;
take their thoughts away from the severity of their injuries.
Focus their thoughts on the beauty of the women they love,
and bring back fond memories of their families.
In their hour of agony, provide them an escape.
Heavenly Father, for the light of your love we wait.
In the hell of warfare, for your angels we await. -
Before the pain, she laughed beautifully and wrote her name,
and after it came, it brought lifelessness and dark rain;
but she was never told that she was not to blame,
so when she cried, she was ashamed — and sorrow,
consternation, and anger boiled in her veins.
Though she may pass feigned smiles, if you look into her eyes,
it is there that great pain lies—
draining her joy and her essence through a forced disguise.
But there is a quiet strength that fuels the fire of hope,
and in that hope she survives, pushing back against fear and its lies;
tears constantly fall, and somehow in a desolate place, she manages to smile.
Her tears are dried and looking through gorgeous eyes,
she will abide and make it through the night. -
We were in so much pain,
but it is pain we did not know we were in.
In our numbness, we did not feel it.
In our darkness, we did not see it.
Through the wailing of our own voices, we did not hear it;
yet we were immersed in it,
somehow, still being able to breathe.
We were listless, and in death,
we were not able to grieve.
Afraid to be awakened,
we were gods in our dreams;
for so long, we were gods in our dreams.
We survived in our numb state,
but then we longed to feel;
for so long we longed to feel.
Then the pain came again,
and it was then we knew it was real;
my god, it was so real.
But we harnessed it, and a fire was lit—
that revealed a truth that was concealed;
for long it had been concealed,
that we were gods among men.
We were gods among men, indeed. -
She is a goddess, once broken.
Celestial stars crown her in twilight;
The fire of her passion illuminates the naked night.
Through the vehemence of her eyes, see her.
The delicateness of her is unchanged;
Though strong winds blow against her,
Her scepter and crown remain. -
If we should fall, tell the world of our exploits,
the pain in our hearts, and how for so long we survived the dark nights.
Tell them of what we’ve endured here,
the tears, the weeping, for so many years.
Tell them that we’ve loved and have been loved,
but by the third season our hearts were shattered
and the remnants of our loving hearts, scattered.
Tell them of the injustice we have endured here, and of our martyrs.
Tell them of the blood that runs every summer
and the crying voices that hope to conquer;
Tell them of the beauty of our mothers
and the quiet strength of our fathers.
Tell them that we weep and suffer,
but somehow we still survive the coldest winters.
Tell them that twelve judge us with prejudice,
and the color of our skin condemns us.
Tell them of apathetic eyes that watch us with hatred and bias
and the system set up to destroy us.
Tell them of our ancestors who came over on ships
to be enslaved for generations—
In tears, raped, separated and whipped.
Tell them that, at our breaking point we didn’t give a shit,
and we were not afraid of death in our final moments.
Tell them that their bullshit sentiments are meaningless
and they walk around as empty husks, soulless.
Tell them that we gave it everything we had,
and faced our fates with tears of resolve—and boldness. -
In light we are reborn, equipped with a crown and sword.
The banners that we wave — passionately worn.
We go out in the night and conquer the storm;
Our scepters laid upon our thrones,
Waiting to be held in mighty hands which rings adorn.
Enemies seek to slay us, and make us the no more;
But their hearts fail them and decimate their resolve.
Their blood soaks the bottom edges of the king’s robe,
over armor that drags on the vast halls of white marble floors.
Once we were reviled and scorned,
But now we are venerated and adored.
Intimate Compositions 