I am resilient, I am resourceful, I am worthy,
they say.
Why yes, I am also battered. I am also nursing a bruise and the child inside me and her bruises, too.
I am tired, and angry, and scaling a mountain with frayed rope.
But I am resilient. I am resilient. I am resilient.
After all, I am both my father’s smallest child and my grandmother’s greatest wish. I am the lone woman in the field. I am witness to and victim of and perpetrator within.
I am climbing into the empty well. I am going hungry. I am holding my destroyer's hand and bargaining with God.
I am resourceful. I am a thief. I am worthy of what I stole.
One day,
I
will be the one holding the gun.
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