The first stone thrown by a panicked friend as I answer his questions

And sometimes throw back his stones.

The ones he thinks might heal my broken bones.


The radioactive label so casually attached to those who opposed

Men whose words they now disavow

As if they were never considered divine.

They are pearls,

You are swine.


An easy shot to fire when you realize your vest isn’t as bulletproof as you thought

And your chest learns just a fraction of the pain your perceived opposer felt

As they swallowed bullets without biting to believe what they were taught.



It’s not a summer’s day you decide to make roar with thunder and darkness because you aren’t content

It’s realizing that summer never really existed

That you weren’t ever really enlisted

And you don’t know how you used to cover up your shivers.

Can anyone lend me a coat?


The quickest shutdown of an open, hurting mind

Willing to surrender being understood—

To let pain go undetected in the name of staying connected.

Or at least in the name of staying.


A mind once willing to lock itself up and throw away the key

And pretend

If it meant they could shun the insanity.

You opened that door.

You asked for this,


The nicest little package you can wrap up doubts in

Then plant as a bomb somewhere you don’t go very often

Because if you do, you are trespassing on land that’s not yours

But not theirs


What land?

Land they say we don’t know the owner of, but definitely shouldn’t walk on.


There are a lot of lands you don’t discover when your head is in the clouds.


The best misunderstanding you can make when faced with the agony of terrifying possibility.

Don’t worry; your brain will do its job

Just focus on the Heartsell

It’s your own fault it hurts like hell.


The steel sword that doesn’t exist, but does just as much damage.

The first, and last, resort of the fearful

And the feared


You have no idea.

Zina Jacobs-Smith-Young
Zina Jacobs-Smith-Young
Zina Jacobs-Smith-Young would have been a millennial blogger, but she died in 1901. The wife of Brigham Young, and prior to that Joseph Smith, and prior to that Henry Jacobs, who was sent on a mission by Brigham before he married her, Zina loves writing, long walks on the beach, and playing the field.

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