A Source I Am

A burden, annoyance, worthless, and embarrassing.

The words, the looks, the treatment, the feeling…

The poison merged with my soul deeply and thoroughly.

A drop, and then more each day since the day that I was conceived.

The roots have been tainted.

There’s no saving me.

I cry for death, and then yell for it to leave.

“I beg of you, take me, save me, I will help us meet.

I beg of you, leave me, ignore me, it is not our time.”

I’ve read many times before that physical pain hinders the pain of the heart, the mind, and the soul…

I will never tell you how I know—that it—is—so.

That what I’ve read is true and that it is the only way…

The only way to comfort, the only relief, the only punishment with no consequence to others—it’s a consequence that only hurts the burden, the annoyance, the worthless and embarrassing human of what I am.

There—is—no—saving—me.

Yet—

My soul fights against the shadow of death with every ounce of its dimmed light.

There is empathy. There is tenderness. There is understanding.

There—is—survival.

I am a source of light and laughter—when the dark days don’t hide me away.

I am a source of wisdom and freedom—when the pain sewn into my very being isn’t fogging my mind.

I am a source of strength and encouragement—when the depths of horrible truths aren’t eating away at my heart.

I am a gift—

A source of rest and heavenly breaths, of comfort and of power, of happiness and regeneration.

I refuse to give into the poison and become a provider of the very same.

I might bleed, at times I might turn black and blue,

But my branches will always serve fruit and flowers—I will always be a source of life, light, and love.