You thought you could destroy me,

with hurtful words you wrote,

You set out to demean me,

and, perhaps, to gloat;

You hammered words unkindly

and set forth all my faults

and wrote them down on paper,

Numerous insults.

I could not rise to meet you

in this verbal dark attack

for I recalled my mother

and words not taken back

and a lesson that she taught me

a child, upon her knee,

for once it’s down on paper,

the words have been set free;

Nothing can restore you

or make the words undone,

and by my very silence,

You’ll never know I won;

Better, then, to write words down

in a journal or a book

and keep it all within yourself,

where no one ever looks.

Sandra Lee Smith Originally written 4/5/08–updated 5/6/18

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s