Hair black as the raven Circling the field of bodies below The first kill was memorable The thousandth was forgettable The blade of her ancestors Thirsts for vengeance Slaked by the blood of enemies As a girl she never knew What she learned as a warrior The threats to the country Never receded instead growing Like the seeds of a felled tree Rising in multitudes Resting now she polishes her blade Keeping its edge razor sharp As her awareness always watching The boundaries of perception For the blade that will cut her down And she wonders will she find peace Or will her spirit rise up With those that a girl turned man Turned woman warrior inspired
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Musing & Creating with T.J.S. Sherman 