Throwing Slowly

I broke my arm throwing once.

It was twisted
apart into dueling shards.

Spiral fractures funnel eyes to pointed gaze
searching for trauma, abuse, violence;
wanting to disbelieve
the strength of one's arm
can overthrow the thrower.

We look for weakness externally
so we can throw stones to kill
the threat of association
with weakness perceived;
to relieve needing to believe the truth:
a saboteur lives within.

Violence is excused
when it excuses insecurity.
Yet, "Kill or be killed" lacks weight
when what would be killed is pride.

We embolden ourselves to embody
our fears in opponents rather than face
the humiliation of limitations.
We toil to recoil against
any threat to soil
an unstained self image.

The mirror reflects
a face of perfect porcelain
with eyes blind to seeing
the fragility of clay
or the figure of a potential friend
hidden by the silhouetted specter of fear.

Breaking one's arm when throwing
isn't all bad.
It teaches one to recognize weakness
and be slow to throw stones.

[September 18, 2014]