Blacksmith

if i was asked, a few years back
how life is
I would have said
“life is vindictive and cruel”

I would have described
how it coaxes you into being vulnerable and soft
and then with perfect timing,
kicks you with all the force it can muster

I have been taught since then, to stay with feelings such as this
to ask with curiosity
“What kind of a being struck is this?”

When a blacksmith forges iron,
she must heat it until it glows red, then orange, yellow
more heat and it will glow white - this is too much,
that orange-yellow phase is the forging heat.

It is at this stage that she may do her work

It is no use striking when iron is cold,
its brittle unresponsiveness can not be shaped
at best it will do nothing,
at worst it will shatter

like that, it is no use striking me when
my guard is up,
when i am protected
i won’t change then
any efforts will meet with tough resistance

it is only if I am willing to be made hot enough to soften
and there, submit to every blow
that I can be forged
into what I might become