I rise and fall with their words and looks, blown by their wind and scornful quips. My heart exposed, it longs for home, it longs for love yet harbours groans.
When I hear kind words I fill inside, yet words hurt deep and my spirit cries.
I rise, I fall, I bloom and retreat. Through words that are lethal and words that are sweet. You look, you smile and my heart says yes but when you turn I’m a fallen mess.
I rise, I fall just like a sponge. I’m filled, I’m squeezed until I’m rung. The trauma, the un-love the brutal deceit, I rise and I fall crumpled under your feet.
My life continues, not strong, not stable but blown by others, I am disabled. I’ve handed you the keys to my castle, may all come in and raid and hassle.
You see my very core, my heart, my safe place, has been handed to you as an unprotected space. A place with no boundaries, no protection and prone to rape. It’s yours to squeeze and dominate.
Just like a sponge my life’s in your hands. You speak, I jump, you scorn I burn. I rise, I fall just like a sponge. I’m exhausted, apathetic and surrendered to fate.
Then I hear these words, these beautiful words...
“You’re a rose not a sponge”. “You are beauty and danger all rolled into one.”
If you knew who you were you’d close up your strong castle. You’d draw up your gates and prepare for the battle. The battle for freedom is yours to command. The keys to your future they lay in your hands.
No longer to fall at their actions and words, no longer to die at their corrupted stares. Your identity is solid you don’t need affirmation. Your past and future defined - you come from a strong nation! A nation of roses, proud, tall and roots deep. Words to a rose don’t fill and don’t reap.
When another cries “ugly” the rose doesn’t flinch, it releases its fragrance, it knows who it is. It says yes to truth but all else doesn’t fizz.
The depth of its fragrance is rooted in power, power from truth that its worth can’t expire. A rose is a rose regardless of comment. Strong roots, proud stems with petals of power. Born to transform not born to cower.
The rose is immune to the squeezing of others, its thorns are not vicious, they are its high towers. Come too close with your squeezing and you’ll be pricked by my force. I’m strong and courageous and made to endorse the beauty and strength of my maker of course.
Made in His image to love and be loved, no longer a victim but empowered from above.
The choice for freedom is mine to accept. I’m a rose not a sponge and that removes the false threat. No longer to open my heart to the words, no longer to stew on their gestures and verbs. No longer to suffer power abuse, it’s time to shore-up my castle with truth.
My identity is concrete, I’m a rose not a sponge. I’ll live from this posture, I’ll choose truth and bring life. My petals are perfect, my fragrance ends strife. I’m made to advance not retract and hold back. My beauty has power and I’m made to attack. The kingdom of darkness can’t win without lies. The truth of my identity frightens his spies.
So, this truth now within me I’ll be the real me. I’m a rose not a sponge and a rose I shall be.
Ric - Heart Thoughts.
