Daughter of Zion

Mm, strong words
rolling off my tongue
like the smoke that winds from my lips.

They leave so easy,
easy as the whiskey goes down,
but darker.

Heady are their stories,
made from coffee and long conversations,
and uneasy dreams before them.

These are fighting words, loud and
rattled out of my heart to unsettle you.
To challenge, provoke, and plead your mercy.

Plead your mercy, pull your grace
from your arms, and throw you away
from my body, away from my intimate places.

Those sensitive ones, hidden under
smoke, blood, flesh, and pride.
I shudder at your touch, afraid of your
hands and how they might hold me.

Uneasy at your voice,
and what it may say.

You are frightening,
and I fight with my only knife,
words rendered petty against
yours.

I couldn't run away with your grace,
you came with it,
wrapped me into you and held on through
the slurs and profanities I threw,
God damn punches, and sobs.

You held and you held, and grew stronger.
I wrestle and you hold,
I bite and spit and you hold
and you speak.

My strong words bitter,
bitter grows brittle,
brittle breaks and I am mute.

I am quieted. You are still speaking,
you are singing. I am quieted.
You call me daughter. You rejoice and call me
daughter.

I am quieted.
I am speechless to your mercy, I can utter nothing against your love.