Invulnerable
You may think with my gentle smile
and appeasing way that I am invulnerable.
A steel girdle created in my infant year
from objurgation
from the cold hands of a nurturer
has camouflaged my true self.
Outwardly I may seem pliable,
Willing to be subjugated,
But inward I simmer with resentment
of you and others of your kind.
But then, again, who are the real vulnerable ones
For vulnerability has no class boundaries?
How often those who appear
invulnerable become religious zealots or socialists
To seek revenge and uplift their kind.
© Judy Brumby-Lake
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