Ole Girl

Let me
tell you something
ole girl
listen up;
you got this
all wrong…
I see
no room
for regret.
Things I think
make me weak
need to be.
They push me
to get up
again and again
finding new perspectives.
Fight not flight
frees me
to claw through
pain and anger,
slaying wrong,
staying true
to my soul
saves me.

No one else
has to see it
or believe it.
Just look at me
standing tall,
facing the sun,
my feet buried
in the ground,
that heroines
are forged
from continual
and shaping
of the steel blade
that is my soul.

I march onward
keeping pace
with the rhythm
of irregular heartbeats,
marking time,
in a world
that is just plain
hard as hell,
that faith often
is not enough,
singing notes
out of the range
of my voice,
raging right
and wrong wars,
facing evils
imagined and real,
on the firing line,
low crawling,
in the barbed wire
of reasoning
the unreasonable,
bleeding tears,
feeling shrapnel
beneath keloid scars
marking battles
in a war
not for the weak.

Listen up
ole girl,
you got this
all that
was the prequel
to the greatest
battle of all.
The war
isn’t them
it’s me.
I awaken
to a new
battle cry
what made
me know
I was fight?
What made
me think
I was right?
What am I
really afraid of?
What am I
fighting for?
What will
I tell
my children
and grandchildren
it is all about?
I decree
that for me
it is knowing
I am fight,
but flight
is at times
accepting me,
forging ahead
the best way
that I can,
recognizing that
wrong and right
are not as clear
as it seems,
understanding that
views change.

My battle scars
remind me
to remain
open minded
that others
see me
the way
I present
knowing that
healing begins
after the wound
is inflicted,
the wounds
from the crusade
within me
as proof
that the battles
in life are real.
Knowing that
This ole girl
was wrong
and that
it is okay,
my greatest legacy
is that I faced
fear and stood
in the trenches
enduring enemy fire
one strike
at a time
and that I am
the greatest
reward of all.
I am living proof
that life must
move on
as tomorrow
new challenges
will arise
and I am ready
for whatever
comes next.

Abigail D. Engel
















Edited Stock Image, My Thoughts, My Compilation