Constant State of Change

"Heaven bent to take my hand
and lead me through the fire."

When I look at the the bright white paper
sometimes it is so difficult to let the words
come out.
To tell the truth
because I am afraid
I am always afraid
of judgement
of pain
of loss.
So very afraid
so very angry
so very ugly.

So I let myself be tugged
in all directions.
I let myself go over cliffs
and wonder why it hurts so much
why am I bruised
and cut
and bleeding?

These cracks in my armor
are not for playing with
they are not there to be exploited
they are there to let light and air in occasionally

Where is the me
that took no prisoners
took no bullshit
played the game and knew
she was going to win?

I believe she's in here somewhere
and because of the last three days
she just might be angry
enough to come out and play
again.