A Lotus Bud in Waiting
A poem about damaged lives and transformation
When darkness descends I am shut up shop.
Nothing on offer for anyone who dares approach this
warrior queen, with all knives drawn.
I am queen wasp, defensive stings at the ready,
this can only hurt you more than me.
Yet it is my hurt that makes me sting.
I cannot trust the world or the people in it.
You all betrayed me when I needed you the most
and now you would sit and judge my response.
The child grown into fighting man or addict, woman into victim,
defensive, broken, surviving only.
Barely able to breath in the swamps of terror, loneliness the only safe friend.
There is one remedy in the world, kindness,
yet when you come at me with such
how can I believe it is not ever more razor wire
wrapped in pretty pastel shades of tissue paper?
How can we trust all those who would betray
with their judgments, their stone cold hearts
