I Tell Myself

Am I not capable of greatness if I’ll but still my tongue and use my limbs and spirits to vanquish the dreadful sword?

I tell myself to fear the unfamiliar faces that are found in my reflection.
I tell myself I’ve Love to spare while my fists come booming.

Do I really need another enemy when I’ve more adversaries than champions?

I tell myself I'm compassionate even as the unkindness goes on raging.
I tell myself I'm beautiful even as my ugliness disfigures the heart.

Can’t I imagine myself vanquished without having to dream up hideous foes draped in fear-stained flags?

I tell myself I'm most loving even as hatred’s dagger punctures my scowling lips.
I tell myself I'm peaceful even as war slathers blood across the land.

Aren't I sufficient enough with the tools of death to bring the blade across Love's neck with minimal suffering?

I must begin to tell myself I'm safe even as my own looming death’s unknown.
I must begin to tell myself that I’ve had enough of this; my dread.

© 2011 by mark prime