Sticks and Stones
“No human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so.” -James 3:8-10
When I was in 4th grade, Becky O’neill called me stupid because I wrote my J’s backwards
I told her, “J’s a hard letter.
You don’t know whether to hook left or hook right”
a right hook from ashton bellmen in jr. high
was meant to swell me up
and make my tiny nose normal sized
at least that’s what he told me
and in high school, Ryan Mundy called me things
I dare not repeat
but still replay in my head from time to time
all because I did theater instead of playing football
Sticks and stones, right?
sticks and stones may break my bones
but words
a stone I can take
a quick break
yeah, that I can shake
and you’ve never punched me in the face
but every syllable you speak stabs through my spirit
and hardens my heart
and though my hand makes the cut
your words are the accomplice
seeking to accomplish I know not what
other than to bury some sense of loathing for your own self
i know you hate yourself so much
otherwise you wouldn’t be so obsessed with hating me more
no eye has seen
and no ear has heard
just how much I care about what you think of me
because I would never show anyone
Other than the darkness of my bedroom and tear stained pillow case
Just in case mom or dad could hear my cries
i suffocated my suffering
in a cotton cased grave
and believed all the lies
that you told me about who i am
or what I would become
or who’s fault it was
it got worse when your fingers started saying what your mouth was to cowardly to utter
under the influence of your description of me
i learned to despise many things about myself
not because they’re so bad
but because if I didn’t have them
you wouldn’t have noticed them
and be powerless to use them against me
the pricks and pins of pricks opinions
spins my whole sense of self out of whack
and so i shacked up in the safest place possible
the island of invisibility
on the shore of “don’t make any waves”
at the corner of complacency and fitting in
i hide in the back country of cowardice
praying they wouldn’t notice this insecurity factory I call a life
or a body
or a family
or a faith
and even today, I’m not lying when I say I could care less about what people think
because I could
I could care much MUCH less
because I still care a whole lot
but you are not my source
you are not my well
if your opinion of me was the last cup of water in the desert
I would throw it in your face
and though there’s still a trace of the pain you caused
those scars are hard as armor
and so faint that sometimes
I can’t even see them anymore
because the sticks that used to harm me, have been crossed
the stone that used to bruise me has been rolled away
sticks and stones were your weapon
but sticks and stones is his way
so say all you want
a better word has been spoken
lie all you need to
a greater truth has been revealed
hold me back if you like
but my future has been sealed
sticks and stones, right?
Watch my newest poem here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=91_ItFbWqbA