At the end of the day it only comes down to how proud you are of yourself. Of how you picked yourself up every time you fell. It's not about how minuscule or gigantic something you've gone through is as compared to others, rather, how only you and you alone would have experienced that magnitude. It is impossible to compare yourself to another, every human's timing is different. It's all about the determination and willpower, the fire in your bones and the steady, grounding thoughts in your mind that drove you to become softer, yet heal your wounds and to stand taller and walk with pride. It's all about the lessons you learnt from every single instance when this dreary and somewhat bleak world pushed you down. You are not a graveyard of your failed attempts, you are not a cemetery of things and people that left you alone, you are the whole ocean, filled with a plethora of potential and goodness, that the whole world gazes at and admires.

O Mother of He who is Love Himself
I run to your golden abode. Seek for me the grace
to be like you.
To love like you,
to serve like you
to obey like you.
May my mind be Heaven bound,
Seeking the good with my hands
Speaking the truth with love
Sharing my warmth and your light.
Take from me the darkness,
the weight that weighs me down
making my eyes heavy and teary.
Fill me with your light, that I may never falter,
on my path, to share the love.

but I know
just as a cat flinches
when you move to pet it,
so do I.
we both no longer know the difference between
affection and attack.

No greater love than that of the Man who died on a cross, who even after agony and suffering, being crowned with thorns and mocked, with all of His last breath, believed I was worth it all.

Everything for the man who died on a cross, who even in his last hour, believed I was worth it all.

then tell me why have we barely touched
but your bones feel like home,
why is your aroma-
my only known cologne.

then why does your heart pace at the same rate as mine,
synchronized thoughts and breaths
bringing us back together
time after time.

i.
some days I am more
wolf than woman
and it’s hard to hide my fangs.
I’ll hiss and snarl and spit the blood
of those who trespass against my land.

ii.
some days I am more
wolf than woman
and it’s not that hard to understand.
I cannot be tamed or caged or chained,
I am the alpha of the pack.

iii.
some days I am more
wolf than woman
and there is no strength I lack,
but hiding and camouflaging
with the sheep
does not make my fur more black.

iv.
most days I am more
wolf than woman,
and you’ll find me bathe
underneath the moonlight.
in the slightest of mannerisms
you’ll discover, it’s not that
easy for me to hide.
hunting and guarding and marking
until the weary day turns to night.
in the way, that I tread the land
these claws covered by a pretty coat
and smiling- hah, no that’s the
predator baring her fangs to show you
how it’ll dig into your throat.

more wolf than woman | shevaun stonem