strength of.
In the darkest of night, do you seek not the light of day? the bright is before you, the inky skies soon to be just a fleeting memory of what once was.
But how is it that in this oncoming light, I am shrouded by unforeseen?
How is it that in the best of times, is hidden the worst of times?
Whenceforth had I asked of you to judge me on not my character, but what lies before thine eyes? No, I asked you of my beauty, and how this wretch could be more cultivated for you.
And I hope that the past you is different from the present you, who should be different from the you I encountered half a day ago, which I sure do hope I never meet in a future you, ever, never.
How you can make me feel so broken in my quest for strength, when I have spoken not a word to you? When I do not know your face? What right have you to take away from me the security that belongs to me and me alone? And while I chant the word of strength, my body tingles knowing how untrue it is. I am humiliated and I am shamed, and I will never forget you. But to you, that instance was the only one such that has crossed your mind. In powerlessness, I look for strength, and I cannot say I have it.
Why have you drained me so, when I have not committed deeds worthy of such condemnation? I have no words but spite for you, in ways that those who experience my plight will seek you, plea for you, need you endlessly, hopelessly. In the throes of my deep conscience, I have been turned into Jephthah’s daughter, taking blame, and ironically being ill-fated. I ask you why I have been forsaken, why you have turned me into Tamar when there is no Absalom in my wake. Have you forsaken me because I am not shamefaced? Is my adornment not modest enough for you?
But in the quiet of what follows, I ask why you have not forsaken the one who has taken my security and shattered it. And I ask of you to allow me the audacity to remain still in my scalded core. How a lesson could be so cruel.
