When given a moment to rest in backseats
lecture halls and streets in amongst the people
only then is it clear how far I have come
my progress might look small, achievements
tiny in stature compared to some
and yet – and yet, perhaps they had
a foot or two in the door, a few steps ahead
things have changed – I have changed
from blackened eyes in pristine gardens,
a forehead split open on a marble floor
I have come so far from violence, I
still flinch when confronted, yet am hardened
I am quick to apologise, still first to cry
but do not be deceived – these are instincts
not yet ironed out of me, tears do not mean
I am any less capable of perseverance
of cutting ties and taking to the sea


1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

One response to “12.

  1. I agree, tears aren’t weakness. They are feelings, and it takes strength to not numb down. This packs a punch. Sounds like you have bad memories.

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