I was supposed to crumble,
And to call it quits. But I wasn’t
Made that way.
Crumbled, yes but
I bent down and picked up the pieces
Knowing that every piece had a purpose
Pieced back together glued together with scars.
I was supposed to tumble
And fall flat on my face. And I did,
But falling meant my viewpoint shifted.
Tumbled, to adjust, I got up with
New information that the shift provided.
I see better, with hands filled with the crumbs.
I was supposed to cry, your words held the daggers.
Designed to hurt, to tear and to rip open
You dreamt of blood, my blood.
The pain and the blood were merely
Confirmation that I was still alive
That my heart still beat and
Not to quench your thirst.
Your design was for defeat.
But God had already armed me for victory.
Dodging arrows and patching wounds
Is my specialty. Fearless in my fear.
I was born that way. Fit to fight
Even from the ground.
A gatherer of crumbs
Covered in places you cannot reach.
Falling simply to rest and
View the battleground from another angle.
Your design was for defeat, but
The only one who was defeated was you!
Photo credit: Humphrey M for Unsplash
