I hate being weak.
I am weak though.
I’m weaker than a stone.
If I slam my hand down upon a stone
Will be hurt
And the stone
I’m strong enough to get a bigger, harder stone
And pound the first stone to dust.
I’m weaker than a bear.
One swipe of a bear’s paw could end my life,
Tear my flesh,
Leave me drooling lopsided out of a crooked mouth for the rest of my life.
But, I’m clever enough to make a weapon,
Or dig a pit
Or build a trap
To kill the bear before he even knew I existed.
I’m weaker than a tree.
My bones, in a collision with a tree, would shatter
Long before the tree suffered more than scraped bark.
I could be impaled upon the branches
Or, if I were as foolish and stubborn as I occasionally am,
I could tear my muscles
And pop my joints,
Trying vainly to wrestle the tree from the ground.
But, I can learn to make fire,
Or an ax,
Or even, given enough time,
All of which would remove the tree from my path
With no more consequence than a mild sweat.
I’m weaker than a mountain.
Whether it falls on me
Or I fall on it
Or it just remains as it is and never lets me pass,
I am inconsequential
To the mountain.
I can live and die on its slopes
And do nothing more than add my corpse to its mass.
But, with a shovel
I can re-route a river to wear it down,
With a pick I can chisel my way through the heart of it,
With the right chemicals I can blow a hole through the center of it,
With a word I can throw it into the sea.
I’m weaker than a thought.
One casual comment,
One tiny temptation,
Can work its way into my head
Like a virus
Until it resonates
In every part of me.
But, I create thoughts, too.
I can learn discernment and
I can believe in what’s True
(With the intentional capitol T
Because I believe that there is Truth
And not just small, individual, true-for-me truths).
Truth is stronger than me
But, in Truth I am stronger
Than untrue, virulent thoughts.
I am weak,
In myself, I am weak.
Through gifts given to me I am stronger than any opposition.