What happens when you’re built
strong and sturdy
with a fiery temper that blows
off the peak of a dormant volcano.
The anger spilling out, running down,
its magmatic fingers reaching to burn,
to hurt in reaction to its being hurt.
What happens when other kids
are intimidated by your size, your strength.
You didn’t mean to grow this fast
But they all want you on their dodgeball team,
their basketball team.
You’re taller. You can hit harder.
What happens when you’re pouring through
a baby name book, looking for some kind of meaning.
Some answer to who you are as a person.
Kelly (Gaelic) war.
That fiery temper, that desperate reaction snaps
the book closed.
Screw that book.
Can a name define who we are?
What happens when you take
your temper to task,
as a blacksmith melts steel to make sword.
A blade to only be used when
you feel defenseless.
Is that when you move from war to war-like?
That’s what the new name book said.
What happens as you mature
along with your peers and they
catch up to you in height?
They don’t fear you anymore.
Not your size, not your temper.
They sense you keep it sheathed,
ever at the ready should it be needed.
They trust you.
What happens when you look
in a new name book,
not searching for just yourself,
but for your progeny.
Kelly (Gaelic) warrior.
A meaning, a defining to be proud of,
but you still name your child
Sage (Latin) wise one.
No one should go through
an internal war.