Punching Bag
I’m so sorry if I hurt you.
I’m sorry for any bruises, I’m still praying that I didn’t leave any scars. They say our fists are the same size as our heart, and I was convinced I was throwing punches out of love. I loved you all so much. I placed you on bulletproof pedestals, but forgot how manipulative gravity can be. It was only a matter of time before you fell. I swear, I thought you were invincible, so I raised my fists and gave you hell. All in efforts of finding myself. I am still figuring out my own strength. Thank you for helping me grow. Thank you for standing still, with your everlasting patience, and not running away from my southpaw stance. Thank you for accepting the position of being my target, and understanding that if I wasn’t swinging at you, I’d start swinging on myself. Thank you for keeping your arms open to me, despite all of the pain that you felt. Thank you for letting me learn from the pain of my knuckles colliding against your bones, even when I had no concept of the fractures I caused to your own. Thank you for preparing me for all the battles yet to come in this ring called Life. Thank you for sticking around in the audience, and cheering me on from the side lines.
Thank you for not hitting me back.
© Gina Clingan 2017
From my book, Everything After, which can be purchased here.
