When the day arrived, it dawned with release,
And peace.
The kind of peace only a mountain feels, when,
Without moving,
The burden of white weight, snow weight slips from its shoulders.
It births a sigh.
Granite lungs heave relief, it breathes,
For the first time since its plutonic release.
The sensation shocked her awake,
Her mind, body and soul a reconnected circuit,
Expectation was expunged,
Her tired heart, in the hand of freedom, a wrung-out sponge.
No more would she wrap her knuckles in blood-stained bandages,
No more would she rap upon the dry oak door of hope,
Only for the cracked wood to spear her flesh,
Leaving the splinters of disillusion to fester beneath her skin.
No more would she ape Atys.
No more would her body ache.
No more would she break.
She turned her back on her war,
And made peace with herself.
Missives & Musings 