To rise
by Lyn Marinello
A million little pin pricks, shattered hopes and body shamed.
Broken hearts and battered dreams, betrayals and ego-maimed.
The friends who never were. Hopes so painfully dashed.
Once so fiercely driven; far too frequently I’ve crashed.
Memories of ache; turmoil bubbling just below.
Discontent and angry. Smothering woefully slow.
Fractured little plans, wasted efforts, stunted growth,
Windless sails and stolen breaths; yet glued to my own oath.
No matter the mountain before me or the chasm I’ll need to traverse;
The weight I’ll need to carry, or the internal self I’ll need to coerce.
The actions of other people do not dictate who I’ll be.
Each day’s an opportunity to define a brand new me.
I will sift through mangled pieces. I will filter all the waste.
I will be a better human - indifferent to adversity’s taste.
I’m too tenacious in my soul to stay cowering when attacked.
I’m undeterred, though cautious; splintered though still intact.
I’m no longer debased by scars - on my skin or on my heart.
They are marks that I have earned; filled with wisdom to impart.
I’m not a ‘me too’ movement, nor will you ‘hear me roar’.
It’s more - ‘Look what you’ve created. You’ve no idea what is in store.’
You can chip off many chunks; speak lies in hopes of my demise;
But you cannot clip the wings of the Phoenix born to rise.
