I heard once that I am Iron.
That every hardship is made to forge me,
that after all is said and done,
I will be strong.

But when I fall and bleed.
When the stench of rust reaches my nose,
when the stench of rust permeates my senses,
I cannot help but think:
I am not strong.

But I will raise my head high.
Like a phoenix from the ashes,
like a sword from the furnace.
I take a moment to reflect:
I am not yet strong.

I heard once that I am Iron.
That every hardship was made to forge me,
that after all was said and done.
I will be strong.

I see now.
After being submerged in the fire and being beaten into shape,
after going through hell and back.
I am strong.