He hurled them toward me
and I stood in their way
feeling the impact with more force than even he intended.
I hate those words, meddling words, lying ones, any ones spit from his tongue that hit me and don’t meet my approval.
But I stood in their way, let them penetrate to create a tree of unforgiveness in me.
This hurling, embracing and planting happened the first time.
This hurling, embracing and watering happened the second time
And the third
The tree never missed a good watering.
It’s well rooted.
It stands tall.
Its blossoms are pretty to me.
It looms and stands strong in my soul.
Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith