They pound wild inside like little fists punching the soft inner flesh of a mothers round profile.
The outside feels tight and taut but the inside feels like I’ve given birth a thousand times.
Still they fight their way out into a world too cold and bright to understand.
And I hold them in, taking the beating time and again.
I wonder if someday on a cold metal table the scars will be seen.
Scars left by a force more powerful than fists and sharper than knives.
My feelings rage, stretching, fighting their way out and they are mighty.
But I stand with jaw set and tears in my eyes taking it again and again.
I don’t crumple under their force, and I don’t cave to their whims.
I stand strong with my muscles tight, skin stretched over all that grows deep inside.
And the moment comes sharp and I breathe with resolve.
I finally release all that has pummeled me from inside.
Suddenly they are no longer mighty.
But I am.
Linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker today for Five Minute Friday. Taking a chance on art instead of perfection for five minutes. One single word as inspiration. Check it out and join in!
About Becky Hastings
I am emotional and logical. I am strong and dependent. I am a juxtaposition of head and heart exploring it all through writing. And in all my mixed-up ways I am loved. I'm here to tell you that you are, too. Just the way you are.