Poets & Poetry

Battle angel

A scar runs down her face,
Blood trickling down the space.
The wound might be new, but the fight is old,
Was this how her story was supposed to unfold?
She used to be giddy, she used to be gay,
Glowed with hope and passion, her heart was bright as a day in May.
She was strong but now she’s just so frail,
Never knew how to quit, but now she no longer wants to play.
To concede defeat seems so alluring,
A peaceful bliss that would end all the suffering.
The urge is overwhelming, to give up all,
But something inside of her doesn’t let her make the call.
It’s the voice, telling her she was born to be great,
She was brave and she alone had the power to decide her fate.
Wiping away the blood, she got to her feet,
All the challenges, with a venturous smile she’ll meet.
She will fight, she won’t take flight,
She will strive, she will survive.
The fight is old, the fight is onerous,
But it is still hers.
Courageous, confident, capable — nothing will she fear.
And the world will know
For the queen is here.