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 fourth
And fifth.
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