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Thursday, April 16, 2015

No. 5 of my 30 in 15 for National Poetry Month

For You

It takes a special kind of fighter, a warrior--to see the depths, lined with shards and fire.
Encamped in murky waters.
Draped in melancholy and wrapped in despair--
to dive in armed with simply a heart to see you healed and free.

This is for you.

Those who've had the seeming displeasure of swimming in my deep. My hurt. My longing.

Those who, with the Father's heart, said they were not afraid, that I don't have to apologize for my brokenness.

Those who look on my face with delight at the little girl I was, the woman I am, and my becoming.

For my family, both blood and blood bought. For my friends. For my teachers and leaders. For the strangers who listened when God told them to speak, to see her.

For the mothers who don't have their own, yet saw a daughter to nurture and did so without pause.

For the fathers with a God-sized desire to see sons and daughters experience real fathers.

This is for you.

And I hope you can accept my thank you, though my words will never be enough to show my gratitude.

Because there will never be an elocutionary means to adequately express the deepest appreciation of those who fight for the ones who could never repay them.

This...this is for you.

Thank you.

Mirakol Smith, April 16, 2015

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