Changing My Tune...Slowly

I originally penned this to not be about me, personally; it was during a free-write to music and the instructor had projected a picture up on the wall, one of a woman standing in the middle of what appeared to be the desert. She was facing some kind of black monster and it seemed like everything was stacked against her.

I wrote the first couple of stanzas and felt content with just leaving the poem the way that it was. Then I looked back at the title and thought to myself, what if I don't want to be strong all of the time? What if I just want to be held and be allowed to cry ugly, gut-wrenching tears if that's how I feel? 

As sad as this is, sometimes I feel like I always have to be happy, or strong, or act in a positive manner in order for people to care. I will go into that at a later time, but here is the poem: 

The Song of The Strong

Let the wind cut at my face like sharpened knives

Desert sand stinging innocent eyes

Rain falls, light flashes

Skin caked with dust and ashes

Let the tears swim with salt and sweat

Knees knocking, fists clenching

The battle of life rages on

And here plays the song of the strong

Yet comes a point where strength alone is not enough

She yearns for arms to enfold around her

For eyes to understand

For ears to hear that she is tired of trying so hard

A heart to connect with hers

There is a time to weep, but when?

There is a time to dance, but when?

Does love only encompass that of happy things?

Or isn’t it unconditional acceptance of all sides of a person?

She has nothing to prove, but feels it so

Yet the beat is slowing, the song is changing

She walks like a warrior, but is not afraid to stop and rest

Allowing those to walk beside her

And tell her firmly “you will not do this alone”