The Warrior


She curled into herself defensively

on the ground amongst the stones

They had thrown at her.

She was bruised and bloody,

some of them striking

with such force

that the wounds were raw

and open for all to see what was

inside her…

The head wound between her eyes

seeped intuition,

discernment and her vision

of what was possible

in each of them…

The gash over her heart

bled rivulets of compassion,

and love for the soul

inside each of them that was

suffocating…

Her back carried the most

damage, betrayal being

the weapon frequently used

when one is afraid to face

themselves…

As she struggled to

her feet, the frenzy

began again,

but to their astonishment

and dismay

the stones fell harmlessly

at her feet…

They could not touch her

at all…

And she looked each of them

in their eyes before

reaching out

and loving them

again.

 

 

 

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