Like a Stepson
She turns away from my proposal,
yet embraces hers with open arms.
She denies me help for the journey,
yet fills her pockets with gifts of gold.
She is rich—
so rich the air around her glitters.
Branded things parade her love,
yet her affection flows one-sided,
to her, not me.
Perhaps she whispers clever tricks,
twisting shadows into light,
tilting favor to her side.
Jealousy—
a knife I dare not hold too long.
Its edge is sharp,
its weight too heavy.
So I pray:
Lord, keep me safe,
shield my heart from bitterness,
guard my path from the hands
that weave harm in secret.
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