like an injured rabbit.
Where my eyes grow bloodshot hot
and my heart red heavy.
Foolish. Scared. Embarrassed.
Confident. Empowered. Believing.
And turn inward.
Quiet. Paralyzed. Numb.
Or I would rather fight him like a crazy woman.
Swing my fist into his jaw, hair flying insanely.
Wild. Angry. Hurt.
I will pick myself up.
I will walk calmly towards him.
I will give him a steel look in the eye.
Mouth set, I will say firmly,
"Move over. I am coming through."
Faith-filled. Moving forward. Expecting God's best.