The Light

“A kind gesture can reach a wound that only compassion can heal.” — Steve Maraboli 

You called me ugly today,

Asked me why I was still here.

I fought back tears as you shot insults through my heart,

They weren't lying when they said words cut deeper than knives.

Tears bleed down my face, 

You just laugh, call me weak.

You push me, and I fall.

You say that I'm worthless, and I'm starting to believe you.

My friends tell me you're just joking,

That I’m better than just a few words.

But you left wounds too deep to ignore.

They tell me to fight back, ignore you, forget the words you spat at my face.

The counselor asks if I’m okay,

Of course I’m not, can’t you see the cutthroat things being jabbed into me?

It's not like they were going to help anyway.

Maybe, just maybe, I can fix this by myself.

You stick to me like barbed wire,

Never leaving my shadow.

I look in the mirror, telling myself it will be alright.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see freedom and help.

I see a change in myself. 

I hear a whisper of kindness and strength.

 Her voice is built with confidence, and she tells me that you just needed a friend.

So, I smiled at you instead of wincing.

I said hello in the hallway, 

You smirked back, threatening to wipe that smile off my face.

I turned my chin up, smiling a little wider.

Maybe I can be a better, stronger me.

I start to see your facade crack. 

I walked in on you crying in the bathroom.

I slipped a note under the stall, my number attached,

Call if you need someone to talk to.

The voice shines through my actions,

Picking up the pieces of hatred you threw at me,

Catching your words of hurt before they could reach my heart.

I recompose the letters, forming them into apologies, words of hope.

I don’t see someone who has hurt me,

I see someone who was trapped in a cage of destruction.

I notice you sit alone at lunch, 

They see you as a lost cause, but you are so much more.

I move to your table,

Hand you a cookie.

You take it gratefully,

And for the first time, you smile, sincerely.

I see you form words of apology, but you stop yourself.

But something changes in you.

The lock breaks from within you.

“I’m sorry.” A whisper, but a shout.

 "I believe you, and I forgive you. Sometimes the bully is the bullied."

Your words will leave a stain on me, but a light shines through me,

Not burying what you’ve done, but accepting it,

Easing the burden of the hurt you used to carry.

Fighting fire with fire only leaves you both burned.

Let your voice of strength shine through,

Consider the person, not their words.

Be kind.