Protector

Do not choose me to protect me,

nor guard me from the wild edge of the world.

I do not seek a savior—

for in this storm-lashed life,

my spine has stood firm,

just as yours has.

Choose me only if you’ll walk beside me

through the fires,

if you’ll let me meet the darkness

with your hand in mine.

Let me be forged beside you—

not hidden, not spared,

but rising,

shoulder to shoulder,

from the ash and ruin.

I am no delicate thing

to be locked away in a fortress of fear.

I am to be loved,

fiercely, openly—

but not kept in shadow

until the war is over.