All I can say for myself is I’d rather burn than be loved improperly.
Without reverence. Devotion. Honor. I’d rather burn.
And burn, I do. It hurts to say no. I’m new to this.
To look a perfect man in the eyes, his chest pressed against mine, and still say “no.”
This time around I’ve proven myself to be greater than even my biggest foe: LOVE
This time around he saw me, it was intimate. He knew of war and also art.
He’d seen the world and it loved him. It lifted him up and gave him a name.
He told me stories of his journey and said that he thought I was someone worthy
of a title my own, and wanted to show me the way. My body answered before my mind.
You know the rest. To be chosen with such certainty was unfamiliar and exciting.
It didn’t take me long to realize he couldn’t be mine, it was no way.
Lo and behold, I was right. How could I think a man so perfect was unmarked?
My immediate instinct was retreat. Also new for me. I’m a fighter.
But I am also fresh from battle. Wounds barely scabbing.
With no desire to perform strength. My exhaustion unmasks me.
I lack the energy, the lay of the land, and the artillery. My ships have not come in.
As I said, I am a warrior. But I am not a foot soldier. I am a General.
I must move with strategy, again, new to me.
I’ve been more of a reckless enforcer in the past. Losing control of the only thing
I’ve been charged to protect, my heart. The trek to recover it was long and hard.
Bloodied from the start. Full of casualties. I am the only survivor. I will not lose again.
I thought of Sun Tzu. Tactical Dispositions.
“Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.”
If you’ve barely survived a previous battle (emotionally, strategically, spiritually), and you immediately walk into another one out of pride, adrenaline, or fear of looking weak, you’re setting yourself up to lose.
It’s better to secure the win inside you first: mentally, materially, energetically.
What is a Gladiator without the arena? A quiet win, to me, felt hollow.
How could I bow to such a worthy opponent? This was sure to be a great battle.
Immediately, I am overtaken by the feeling of someone watching me.
I don’t have to look. A little boy, skin as dark as the weight as the silence he carried
into the room. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. His wounds were as raw as mine.
I wanted to hate him. I knew that once he left I wouldn’t see him again.
He had no courage. I’d never met him before, and yet I loved him.
In all my stubborn glory, I wiped his blood and stitched his skin.
I couldn’t look him in the eye lest I’d spit. Weak little bird. No confession?
No admission of guilt? No white flag?
I understand defeat. We both had a name to protect.
His presence and mine created an air of separation. There was no time.
I knew that this moment existed only in the right now, and never again.
I won’t remember and neither will he. We will go our separate ways. I may weep.
Only once. Or twice. But I will move. I won’t fight this time.
I feel denied the spilled blood that was owed to me.
But she will win who knows when to war and when not.