by Sigrid E. Mortensen
© 2023
I resist the raining blows
That pound me
Pound me
Pound me
Ever harder
Falling relentless on neck and back
Working to forge my metal
Into sword and shield.
I recoil from oven’s glow
Coals angry red
Surging ever hotter to inflame me
Render me malleable to the blacksmith’s hammer
Force me
Force me
Force me
Into tapered edge
And stronger
Heavier mantle.
I refuse to run
Headlong
Into the throng of battle
To slice my way to the top
Or raise protective armor
Between perceived attack
And fragile ego.
Twist me
Instead
Into blades of a plow
So I can turn hard earth
Soft and yielding.
Let me contribute to the pillowing
Of infant seeds
So they may warm
And swell
And stretch
And thrust forth from the ground
Erupt into nourishment
And the sweet fragrance
Of gentle
Blooming
Flowers.