the shepherd's sword

now, you will listen

that little girl you scowled at, with your pale cheeks pulling themselves downward towards your rosy lips-

she keeps you in mind.

of course, now she is a woman. she has traded in her pink for classy black, her flowing skirts for sensible slacks and jeans.

she still likes to let her hair flow wildly; she refuses to tame it. most of the time. of course, now she's learned that it's occasionally necessary.

that little girl no longer climbs trees. no, thanks to you, she's climbed mountains. and she did it- oh, you're going to be appalled by this- she did it with tears snaking down her face, creating stripes of pure, clean peach through the grime.

that little girl finally accepted the tears. she finally grew up to consider that maybe, just maybe, you are not infallible. she has quit apologizing so much. occasionally, when she feels like it, she wears a comfy cotton dress with her father's socks and her battered sneakers. because it makes her happy. were you ever happy? she wonders about this quite often. you always grew so angry.

angry at nothing at all.

remembering you no longer makes her scream and attack whatever is closest. that's the thing: your anger was nearly always cold. when she grew angry, it was red-hot. it clawed at her heart, clenched her lungs closed, flicked on the central heating beneath her skin. but she has learned, she has finally learned, after twenty-something years how to breath.

for nearly fifteen rotations of the earth around the sun, she did not know how to breath.

and even though this is true; even though she did teach herself how to destroy the cage she built out of her own bones, she still nearly curses when she remembers. and you know how much she hates cursing.

that little girl ground her teeth and balled her fists and wept until she finally learned how to breath. because you suffocated her for so long.

but, she's okay. because you gave her thicker skin. a heart that understood why kindness is so important. a head that is a healthy amount of skeptical. you are the reason that she wears a badge. a medal. because she learned to bottle up every single "can't" that you spat out in your venomous rage and save it for when she needed a reason to finish and say that she could.

i can.