Prose for the Martyr
/Spoken Word #MayIWrite — Day 7
Martyr.
What a quick study you are, learning to see exactly what everyone needs you to be. Aren’t you swift in your accommodation, setting yourself on fire to keep others warm. To keep yourself safe. Dear sweet martyr, you are burning up! Your charred heart and smoky eyes don’t let love in. Love — the thing you wish for the most — it doesn’t feel like yours because you keep looking for matches, keep stoking these flames, and you never. quite. get there. Tender martyr, hear me. Your value is not — is NOT — in your ability to disappear. This currency of making room is a lie you tell yourself because more terrifying than the flames is the idea of taking. up. space. Your value is not in how far your kindling can bend before it breaks. Your value is not in the space you leave by packing your needs into crates, ready to toss them on the fire. Beautiful martyr, take these words — this salve. Bandage your burns. Make waves instead of flames. Let your self wash over the landscape of your life.
Let love seep in.
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