Writing.....

Brave 

It's not always easy or possible, but 

Sometimes it does occasionally happen

That when I'm in the middle of nowhere

And I suddenly feel my throat closing

My chest explodes with pain and I

Feel the sense of impending dread that 

Comes with the all-too familiar panic 

And I feel the uncontrollable sense of wild

Fear that screams to be released as it

Courses through my shaking body like a

Rampant runaway vagrant on the loose

Suddenly, either at the touch of a friend

Or the whisper from a soft voice in my

Frightened and disconnected little ear

Something stirs inside of me and in the

Middle of that disorienting hurricane of senses

Going wild and rogue in my physicality

There remains something solid and strong

I take a deep breath and pull out my Sword

Pressing my fingers tightly together I

Whisper the Warrior Song to my soul and 

Bite my lips and close my eyes and breathe

Deep for however long it takes til I stop

Shaking because I know I am coming out

On top again with my sword in the enemy's 

Throat, I am a conqueror who thrusts my

Weapon deep into the flesh of the intruder

And flings off the oppressive spirit that

Weighs so heavily on my back, my chest

Inside my lungs, my throat, my innermost 

Self, my humanity, my femininity, my 

Personhood that has been overtaken by a 

Vicious foe determined to rob me forever

And yet I choke the thing that chokes

Me, I stab the thing that stabs me endlessly

Into the night and drown the thing that drowns

Me when I suffocate in the memory and suck 

In the poison of reliving or of hiding or of crying

I rise, taking the flaming blade from inside of me 

And carving the same horrible edge into the very

Enemy that uses it to take me down, because

The victory will never be in the hands of that vile

Monster, that foul beast that tries so hard to take

Away the innocence, the beauty, the joy, the smile

For it will never breathe its smoky breath down

My back and scald me with my own boiling blood

That streams from the smouldering wounds the beast

Inflicts upon me in my deepest self without suffering

In return; I will always make it pay the highest

Price for shoving me into the hell, the dark, the cell

The Soul is stronger; the blade that slices away the

Aching, wounded flesh and fills the heart with 

Rot and decay will be splintered into bits beyond 

Repair; I will emerge from the battles with scars

Bleeding, out of breath, crying, screaming, 

Covered in my own sweat and tears and drowning in 

Adrenaline, exhaustion, emotion, desire

My hands are full of the flowers I took back from the

Beast; the vile fiend stole them from me and yet

Here I am holding them again, their colors 

Soft and warm and vibrant, full of light and all

That is good, that is beauty, that is innocence

I will rise from the ground caked with dirt and 

Overcome by thirst, yet clutching in my fists the

Water the beast snagged from my soul, I will

Pour it over my head and into my mouth and 

Rising again and again I hold high the flaming sword

Once again I have slain my dragon; one day that

Vile monster will finally die forever and always and never

Torment me again, but until that day I will fight

I will grasp its throat and clutch my blade against its neck

As my army watches and the cheers that come from the

Desert battlefield ring through the confusion and bring

Back the light, the color, the hope, the love

And I mount the beast's corpse with my head high

The Minotaur has died again; here I stand

Victory in Light.