By: Kristin Peterson (Spring, 2022)
She traipsed soft treads on tiptoed ends, afraid to wake and stir emotions
Fear slept at her feet, an old companion, tucked beneath her broken soles
Fear was neither foe nor friend,
It’s warnings stirred imaginations, yet tucked her safe in ruminations
She did not feel it’s binding brace, a face that plagued her youthful yearnings
Internal conflict would enamor, distract from peace in deadly manor
Fear kept her on the straight and narrow, directing courses save for action
She traipsed soft treads on tiptoed ends, afraid to wake and stir emotions
Shame and guilt, the two-fold twins, lay each along her tandem sides
Shame once harbored, ill regret, of guilt bestowed a two-fold lie
With little faith and fewer words, her tread ungraceful, staggered burden
Shame and guilt were not her choice, a force of nature or just sheer force
But once inaction, intercourse, cast innocence to shame and guilt
And so she harbored shame and guilt, generations mirrored lost their Word
She traipsed soft treads on tiptoed ends, afraid to wake and stir emotions
Deceit it crept around her waist, a fitting lie to thus embrace
The terror of conformity and secret sins bridged lunacy
The stilted silence ravaged her, but deceit spoke and she “deserved”
A pirouette of savages, unveiling all their damages
Disbelief, suppressed with grief, a waif reduced to censorship
And so deceit thus stood it’s ground, a baleful blight ensnared her round
She traipsed soft treads on tiptoed ends, afraid to wake and stir emotions
Sadness stirred up on her breast, a heavy yet familiar pardon
The closest one she kept to heart, pervasive but intrusive beauty
For the sadness grew in tangled brambles, piercing thorns and withered rose
Roots echo in familiar grounds, tainted soil for soul to flourish
Reflections of an ill born past, blasphemous, so sadness lasts
Nestled in her briar chest, no respite nor given rest
She traipsed soft treads on tiptoed ends, afraid to wake and stir emotions
Doubt now crowded on her head, invites despair to join the sight,
Doubt entrenched her strength to fight, weakened resistance led to flight
Escaping haunted memories borne, despair a flood from which she’s torn
No present as the gift of past now circumvents the average chance
And so she walks, on tip toed ends, to avoid just being heard
Steps in silence, through her life, to hope that no one notices
But born of tiptoes and intention, the spirit heals through Christ’s Redemption,
Where once was weakness born of doubt, amassed upon her laden brow,
The Lord saw strength to bear the crown, of thorns and brambles, despair through doubt
The helm of purpose set though purchase, salvation gained that faith affords
Where she felt sadness on her chest, there grew: breast plate of righteousness
For through the sadness she held hope, and heart now stirred beneath protection
Where once deceit crept round her waist, through healing work: a test of faith
The belt of Truth restored her peace, and gave her back her dignity
Where once lay shame and guilt beside, a shield of Faith was now supplied
And in the other hand a Sword, of Spirit sharpened by the Word
The Gospel of Peace, the Word of God, now stomps upon the grip of Fear
What once laid at her captive feet, Fear now flew fast from God’s defeat
For through her pain and trials stir, the strength and beauty inside of her
Through healing work, nothing could harm her, now that she bore God’s coat of armor
Faith without works is said to be dead, and so she marches full ahead
Clearing pathways for the others, who tip toe in and stride out happy
Pain evolved now finds connection, our spirits one, in true perfection
*Note: Although this has quite heavy Christian overtones at the end of this, it truly is where I was at the time of writing this. I do see how the Christian overtones could instantly cause a knee-jerk emotional reaction (or, oppositely, be pleasantly on point for others), so now, in retrospect, I am not sure what I think about writing so singularly secular or not, though I do call my Higher Power “God/ Jesus/ Holy Spirit” at the moment and know that truly, I believe in Source, but… God has always historically got me through so many trying times, that I struggle to release the terms that I associate with my Salvation, so that’s what it is… I love to believe everything and nearly nothing at the same time… all I know is that one of the only constants in the Universe is Change, so… as the years pass by… even the addendum I’m writing now will be sure to alter and yet remain the same in many ways… nevertheless: C’est la vie!
