Knight My Fire

I am a giant baby that won’t take a pacifier, a nappy change, or a bottle without spitting them out or soiling them up.

I don’t know what to do with this tangled knot of apathy, discouragement, and overly responsible feelings except to hide it away in a deep, dark cave.

The dang thing about writing is that I can’t escape myself; whenever I run to exhaustion, I always seem to catch up.

So, I ask myself, what don’t you want to talk about?

I want to quit.
So just quit, then.
I know this dare, and its outcomes, so no thanks; I have built a world that no longer needs burning.

Instead of majorly quitting everything, what if you paid attention to the spaces and faces that take more than they give? What if, when they appear, you nod an, “I see you,” and then you energetically walk away?

I fear I can’t do it; I’m not strong enough.
Strength is the takeaway, not what you come in with.

Like the valiant knight, all too aware of what’s at stake on the eve of battle, I will stay vigilant and not break the code.

Did you know? Knights who did not obey the code faced public humiliation. If found guilty, their shield was cracked in two, their sword was cracked over their head, and they were put into a coffin and dragged to the church, where a mock funeral was held.

I don’t want that.

Love, Jaclynn

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