She’s gelded you, boy
That familiar cry
Runs through your mind
Insistently weaving in
Tainting your mood always
Souring your disposition
So that you, even you
Who is so patient
Slams down a cup
Losing your tolerance
With him, your cousin
And still she has broken you
She has and she steals
Pries away your men and women
Breaking your hold
Attacking your character
All that you are
Brier Iron-thorn, a name lost
A name stolen by her
And she has gelded you, boy
But you, no longer so patient
You wrote a note
And now you wait
Your raving barely contained

I am not gelded, Father

Blood boiling
Heart pounding
Burgeoning rage
Only barely contained
Hidden behind that door
That door upon which
Rests your hand
Faltering, failing

Open me, open me
Shouts your mind
Open me, open me
Scream your hands
Aching, burning
Pained by a need
To act, to bring about
Self-destruction so near

An end to anxiety
Setting it all out
To be overtaken
A wave of hate rushing
Over you, over all
Dark, dark
Full of hate
A raving madman
Who shouts even now
Open it, open it
And as you slink away
Screams even now
Coward, coward

What is strength?
You’re not quite sure.

Father taught it to be hardness,
Unyielding fear and distrust,
Screeching, scrabbling, striking out
All love crushed before it spreads.

She teaches it to be rebellion,
Standing up in the face of all,
Tearing down walls, breaking up bones
A resounding no and a fierce affirmation.

Experience taught it to be lacking,
Lost and nowhere to be found
In the possession of others
With you always groping about.

Where is strength?
You’re not quite sure.