June 1, 2016

I Will Disarm You With Poetry. {Poem}


I will disarm you with my kindness,

with poetry,

with my quiet ways,

my care,

it will knock down your walls,


and I’ll do it with nothing

but a pure heart,

a smile,

closed, but wide,

like Buddha inside,

and the grace,

the honesty,

of my chocolate-drop eyes.

I’ll do it by acknowledging your plight,

allowing your danger,

while culling your light.

You, with your sword drawn,

and dripping,

clad in your layers,

of burdensome armor,

bound by chains dragging,

your shield of protection raised,

and ready,

all those deflections,

are no match for me,

for I will press upon you,


and your shoulders will drop, relieved,

and I will revel in the fall of your resistance,

because though you may try,

you can not deny

the lure of my seraphic, quiet ways,

my poetry,

my peace within.

I will bend you with my soft, healing hands,

they will massage, and stroke away your suffering,

they will dissolve your anger,

force open your cage,

to release your fighter’s rage,

and my touch will render you weaponless,

and the gentle swing of my curved, birthing hips,

will make you feel alive,

like all things are possible,

And the words,

my lovely, whispered words,

coupled with the sweetest kiss

from my forgiving lips,

will grant the rest you need within your deflated moment,

will help you cede your promises of revenge,

and usher you past your broken, tainted illusions,

if only for a bit.

Let me fill your cup,

again and again,

and give you,

give you me,

my divinity,

in motion,

in thoughts,

in words,

in prayers,

in essence,

in all my disarming, blessed poetry.

I’ll give you me,

which, as we both know,

is more than what you think you deserve,

or will ever understand,

or can fully honor.

For while I am gloriously present,

I am beyond the realm of possibility.

Can you not see?

I am poetry.

I am more than what you dream about,

when you dream about love.

And you do dream about love,

I know you do.

Or at least you did,

once upon a time,

long ago,

when you were a kid.




Author: Kimberly Valzania

Editor: Renée Picard

Image: Aaron Burden/Unsplash

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