Self Defense class yesterday was an emotional hour. While fighting on the artificial turf I thought about how vulnerable I am to manipulation, violation, hurt. Only recently did I realize how inadequately I protect myself. I am often more concerned about not hurting others than I am about not being hurt myself, and at times this can be a very bad thing indeed.
With these thoughts came glimpses from this poem, probably from when I was 16, possibly 17.
fog drifts across
stiff sparkling cheeks to settle in and haunt;
today’s tears dry in stinging bright nonscars.
dear friends touch
raw wounds with god-forgiven trembled fears;
soft truth makes weeping lips delight.
I prayed for rain; trees grew from stone.
I prayed for wings; he sent me saints.
lord, help me hope as I have never hoped,
(my jesus with your feet bearing new life)
lord, help me love as I have never loved.
