You Have Not Destroyed Me
Though you have pierced me with every arrow
in your quiver, you have not destroyed me. No.
Pricked, and I bled. But I live, despite you,
destroyer god, and not because of you.
Do you hear it, underneath the faint pulse
drawing the thinned blood through my veins? Shell rush
of the ocean, a slow undercurrent
drawing power with each measured silence,
the cadence of my pain. Denied the sweet
release of death, instead I contemplate
how every unrevenged wrong contrived
to bring me to this strength. Though you have
pierced me, cut me, flayed me, let my blood flow
red to earth, you have not destroyed me. No.