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Monday, June 2, 2014

my not-prince

I don’t want a prince charming. 
I am not a princess.
I will not be set on a pedestal and protected from the world.
I don’t want to be in a tower, watching the battle below.

I will be on the ground.  In the dirt.
Sweat and tears staining my face.
Side by side with my not-prince.
Wielding swords and blocking blows.
Battling the dragons together.  

No tiaras, crowns or gilt.  
No simpering, fawning fool.
No knight in shining armor.

Don’t blind me with your goodness.
I want dirty, dented, battered armor.
Bloody, beaten, bruised. 

My armor is battered and beaten.
My life is written in every scratch and dent.
And I’m damn proud of the dents.

I need no one.
I will wait for no one.
I venture forward alone, surrounded my friends and family.

My journey goes forward, my adventure continues.
Who knows who I’ll find walking in the dust around the next hill.

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