July 30, 2019 Tuesday at dusk.
This time I stopped a hurtful comment in time before it could enter my electrical skin. We have different layers of skins. I saw that the comment had a twist, meant to hurt. No, I told it. You cannot enter here. It got confused. It wanted to live. I could send it back. But I care about the sender. I don’t want her hurt. I put the arrow in a box. This box was made of words like dusk, kindness, gourd vines. This box of words will protect me. When I have understanding, then the box will disappear.
Poetry taught me this.
