Anger shows up in the ways we choose to advocate for ourselves:
A voice demanding respect,
A boundary loudly reinforced,
Tears funneling the feeling anywhere but inward,
Because we know better now than to take the disrespect personally.
Our protector rises and takes control of all the perceived wrongs taking place here.
It says, “This doesn’t work for me. Here’s a chance to try again—now.”
I no longer have the patience to watch you throw impersonal darts of projection into my auric landing board.
I’ve shed too much blood for those who avoid their own wounds.
No longer will I simply spackle the damage done to me,
An innocent bystander to your process.
I am not your outlet for rage and discomfort,
Your target for blame,
Your balm for wounds you refuse to heal.
I’ve shed too much blood for battles that were never mine.
I am my own keeper,
Guarding my light with steady hands,
My breath unyielding,
My worth undeniable.
No longer a witness to harm disguised as love,
No longer a host for wounds that do not belong to me.
I am not yours to harm,
Not yours to control.
For I am my own,
Untouchable.
Free.
Finally.
—KN
