adventures in dysthymia

Saturday, July 30, 2005

STRONGER

Y’know that Nietzsche quote,
the one that goes, what does
not kill me makes me stronger?
Crap, my friend, complete
crap. It wears you down;

each wound weakens a little
more until what didn’t
kill you right away
gets you in the end.
There is no armor; there is

no choice. If we can walk

away from love unhurt –
even love that is faded
like memories of childhood –
we lack a heart. Lack what
makes us, us. I’ll hold

the injured bird of my pain
and heal it; until the day
it can fly away,
I’ll hold it to my heart
for it is in healing,

not pain, that we grow stronger.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

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