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Writer's pictureAngelique

Victorious

Victory looked like

a kiss that preceded betrayal

being forcibly removed from those you loved most dearly

while they watched you be spit on slapped and ridiculed


Victory looked like

being in a room full of people

who celebrated you just a few short days ago

beg for your crucifixion

preferring the company of a murderer

to the presence of your truth


Victory looked like

being whipped within an inch of your life

and nailed to a cross you should've been tied to

to appease the prideful palates of priests

who loved to drop your Father's name

but never heard His voice


Victory looks like

asking forgiveness for the violence ignorance bred

in people who mistook

authority for accuracy

position for power

admiration for admission

into your home


Victory looks like

being exactly who you always

said you were

from birth

to death

to resurrection

to prove your love

for the very people

who gloried in your demise


Victory looks like

leaving a piece of yourself

behind so that those you bled for

could believe that you you bled for them

so that the fear and abandonment you felt

at your lowest moment wouldn't be

a bond you had to share



Victory looks like

fulfilled promises to those who died

to pave the way

and those who are born into

the blessings that kept promises carry


Victory looks like

foresight

knowing that you who you love most will need

desperately

what you've provided and

setting a plan in motion

before they knew that they had a name to be called

that satisfies their every need

answers every cry

and anticipates their every desire


to dote on them when they wouldn't know

to articulate the things their heart craved


Victory is

naming your children conquerors before the battle

so that even when the night seems darkest

and it feels like the enemy is closing in


They can only repeat one trusted refrain:


"In the end, we will win"


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