Sunday, January 22, 2017

~ warrior poet ~




Today, she shall fly
with wings made of letters,
symbols forgotten, and emotions discarded.
Today, she shall call herself
warrior poet. The pen can
destroy the sword. Ink
falling like blood across the pages.
Today, she shall see the world
with multicoloured eyes
and an old soul that smells
like oolong tea.
Today, she shall refuse the light 
in search of the Darkness
that becomes her true and first friend.
Of black and hidden.
Today, I am her and she is somewhere else.
Today, she is born.


(photo taken at Woodruff Fontaine House, Memphis, Tennessee)

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