Tired of Iron

They told me strength was iron,
Unbending, cold and sure,
A thing that never faltered,
A thing that must endure.

So I learned to wear the armour,
To stand when I was sore,
To carry every burden
And still be asked for more.

I grew up far too quickly,
Older long before my time,
Mirroring the grown-up world
Before the years were mine.

They said I seemed so steady,
So sensible and wise,
But no one saw the child in me
Still searching in my eyes.

I forged myself in silence,
In echoes of “be strong,”
In childhood words that whispered
That I had it all wrong.

I learned to hide the fractures,
The places worn and thin,
To polish every weakness
So no one saw within.

But iron has a weight to it,
A heaviness to hold,
And even metal weathers
When left out in the cold.

Somewhere in all that armour,
Somewhere along the way,
The boy who once was Jordan
Just quietly slipped away.

Lost beneath the duty,
The strength I had to show,
The man that people see now
Is someone I don’t know.

And sometimes I grow weary
Of being iron still,
Of always being the one
Who bends to everyone’s will.

Sometimes I wish another
Would simply take the reins,
And let me lay the armour down
And rest my tired veins.

To sit a while in silence,
No strength left to perform,
Not leading every battle
Or standing through the storm.

Just let the world move onward,
Let someone else decide,
While I sit quietly waiting
For Jordan to step back inside.

For strength was never iron,
Though that is what we’re told,
Sometimes it’s simply breathing
When your bones already fold.

And maybe being human
Is softer than we’re shown,
Not iron standing rigid,
But flesh and heart and bone.