Do I speak in the voice of warfare; do my words kindle shame and hate? Am I the sword, tearing and rending, or can I even wield the flaming arrow - able to distance myself from the burning hurt? Are my words the drums for marching, pulling us apart or setting us against each other?
Do I build walls? Retreat and hide behind calcified boundaries? Are my words staking claims and setting up fences that will neither flex nor allow any gate? Is my voice the wounded animal, protecting my pain by pushing you away?
I am the warrior, named to it from my birthing day. I am the advocate, in the in between spaces, defending with strong voice. How do I lay down my weapons and trust in that voice not to waver? When will I speak peace, smother the flames, become the place of safety my life was prophesied to be?
There are days when I see the growth and the building of muscle-memory and soul-strength, and days when I realise how far I have to go. I will strive for love. I will strive for words of kindness and gentleness and truth. I will strive for peacemaking.