From the Desert Sands She Rose

She has the strength of an old boomer ‘roo,

Built up with fortitude of years of battle,

Stomach churning worries constantly attack her peace,

As her busy mind tosses, turns and throws up a messy rattle.

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The sighs of her past are deeply entrenched memories,

Ensuring her life lessons where extremely hard won,

Heartbreak, heartache, emotional fissures,

Cracked and broken, stressed and undone.

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Her sorrow moved mountains that stood in her way,

Her tears cried rivers that provisioned a flash flood,

The smile on her face does cruelly hide

The torment that circulates when she spills blood.

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I see her wandering the desert clad in metal armour,

Disappearing at the sight of another in her space,

Invisible to the happiness that once was a possibility,

Although it doesn’t deter from her beauty and grace.

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The cold winds follow her footsteps into the night,

Goosebumps fester when once her touch was of silk,

The hair on the nape of her neck consistently stands on end,

Knowing that society will take advantage, revenge they’ll milk.

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She huddles beneath the furry skin of her last kill,

Despairing of the icicles that cling to her nose,

It’ll be a long night without the pretence of sleep,

Until tomorrow is awakened once the sun silently rose.

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The waves crash along the shoreline of the brilliant white sand,

Pristine dunes roll away across the deserted land,

Her footsteps wither along with the darkness,

And the local birds bury themselves in the sand.

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The carrion breath of an old kill weaves upon the breeze,

Causing her to wrinkle her nose to the dawning gift,

Her stomach growls loudly at the vision of a feast,

Built like a mirage in the distance that moves in a constant shift.

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Toes buried deep in an effort to protect her weary feet,

Stretches of emptiness rears off into the distance,

Leaving her lost to the direction that she will stumble through,

No guarantees she’ll survive the harshest existence.

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The heatwave of the noon sun rays burn harshly,

A sauna of invisible cages trapping the power within,

Feeling like a microwave, burning from the inside out,

Turning her fairness to the brightest of red skin.

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Mirror glitters from the heavenly clouds above,

As they slither about their playground in the pure blue sky,

A vulture is cruising, eyes peeled for a tasty bite,

Dipping and diving above the clouds up high.

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Screams echo from the distance over to the right,

And she shrieks in terror at the noise she hears,

Courageously she stands tall, head high and faces the onslaught,

Until the destructive force is beaten back, she is the one it fears.

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The warrior soul that beats hard within her chest,

Stutters at the pinnacle of the underlying fight,

She stands victorious, now savoured as the queen of this harsh land,

And all that gaze upon her battle scarred face will take a knee in deathly fright.

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Her future is secure and she can now come out of hiding,

Relearning to live in the luxury of society’s adoration,

A Warrior Queen of such strength and determination,

Is cause for a worthy celebration of her powerful salvation.

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Originally published on Medium