Posted in Poetry

Courage

If her strength is born of discontent
When discontent be wed with tears
The kind she cries not of her eyes
But those her soul’s shed over years

If her courage opens up its eyes
When she is backed into a wall
The same one she so carefully built
So she could hide when she was small

If her hope springs fresh when Autumn’s leaves
Are trampled under newborn snow
The leaves – compost; the snow – the drink
That makes flowers – in Spring – to grow

If a mended heart is what it takes
To exit pain and join Life’s song
Then I can almost hear her singing
“I am hopeful, brave, and strong.”

-MA Fairchild (c) 2019

Author:

Mom. Word Nerd. Friend.

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