Anger. Rage. All around people training to fight or defend.

Awkward martial arts. Beautiful faces, roiling with ego and fear.

Beautiful bodies with angular limbs, exposing uncertainty

in proportion to the size of their weapons.

Brandishing arms of war with snarls of terror

to frighten away their insecurity.

 

What they really want is to dance.

To be held by love and to love.

Ironically showing a face to scare away dreams and wishes.

they long to disarm and float on the soft bed of hope.

To be cracked open, raised in the light that heals wounds,

and wrapped in the arms of truth. Secure and at peace.

 

To understand that they are enough, and accepted.

To know the love that melts hearts, and to rise like a bird

trilling its pure and sincere song to the welcoming universe.