HE WAS A WORDSMITH
Poem by Anna Maria Terlinden Rogers
He was a wordsmith.
I hold him in a memory.
I am beautifully resilient.
I have always been.
I am blessed by that.
You were my Achilles' heel,
the wax I built my wings out of as I tried to fly towards the sun,
the shine on those 30 pieces of silver that I betrayed a Messiah for.
You were the chink in my armor,
the fruit that I wanted to taste just because I wanted knowledge,
the person I would have let cut my hair, allowing you to leave me weak.
I am blessed to have survived.
I always do.
I am beautifully resilient.
I hold him in a memory.
He was a wordsmith.
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