As a little lamb in Sunday school I learned:
The meek shall inherit the earth
Love your enemy, turn your cheek
And even, kill them with kindness.
But it is hard kill my enemy with kindness
When my enemy doesn’t know who they are
When I keep turning cheek to cheek declaring,
“No, it doesn’t hurt. Nothing is wrong.”
Then the only thing that dies is me,
My voice muffled under a swollen jaw,
My body shrinking from the weight of so much benevolence.
Sometimes, the only kindness necessary
Should be given to Myself, to allow myself
To ask for help in shrugging off the burden
Of meekness, to massage my throat
Until my vocal chords re-emerge, victorious,
With a yell, “GET OFF. GO AWAY. STOP.”
I will not stay meek for the sake of your peace
I’ll stop sacrificing myself in the name of avoiding conflict.
I will keep screaming the truth to you until
It’s safe to turn my back on you,
Instead of just my cheeks.