Frodo, in Lord of the Rings, him being so weak is what makes him strong enough to carry the ring–
contradictions like that, weak and strong in a cycle,
currents of cold and warm clashing, collapsing, bottoming out,
that’s the hurricane that drives us onward.
So I tend my garden heart,
and the seeds keep their questions piercing through the soil,
“which part of you is strong enough to destroy the world,
and which part is weak enough to save it?”
Dear heart, we hold furious foxgloves, and terrified nettles,
and silent monkshood petals,
but of all my poisonous parts,
none deny me ground to cry on
or air to breathe
like the storm of my love.