The fear of you haunted my every day.
Fear of your fist—a slap or punch—
there was no difference between the actual and the dread. You chased my spirit across the playground,
sometimes all the way home when school ended.
You tripped my spirit, kicked it, called it so
many names that it still quakes at certain words.
You corralled other bullies and set them against
my spirit in the humiliating court of the entire school.
The spirit falls, it gets pulled apart, it splinters,
it cries for help that never comes.
Still, the spirit is resilient.
It gathers. It somehow weaves back whole.
And now I have captured you here in this poem.
The bully who was one and legion. This is not revenge.
I will feed you words to sustain you.
I will offer you space to grow.
I will hope you find love.
I will pray for your transformation.
I will offer many prayers.