Poem: Warrior Spirit

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 

Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.

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