Before I was a Pinterest-crafting, blogging-about-parenting mom of three...before I was the very patient wife of an endurance athlete, before I had my own house that I am required to clean every day so that it doesn't look like a scene out of Mad Max...
I wrote poetry. And it was deep and dark. And I liked it that way.
There was something about becoming a mom that made me feel like I couldn't write that way anymore. Or if I did, someone would find my poetry books and think something was wrong with me. So I locked that creative piece deep down inside, and let the words just die inside. Yet somehow they didn't die. They continued to build, to grow, to gain a power of their own. Recently, whether it be all my health stuff going on or something else, I find that I can no longer lock those words inside. They have a voice of their own and need to be shared.
Darkness swallows up the light
The winter night's magical rush
Takes an unwielding turn
The wind whips through her hair
But she does not move
The power begins to build inside her
Increasing intensity with each stroke of lightning
Ripping through her body
And striking the ground
Dressed in white
She stands out in the black of the night
Not even the moon is brave enough
To show itself
She rises on the bleak hill
Raising arms to open up
The never-ending search for thrills
The power courses through her veins
The words are barely spoken
And like the whisper of the wind
The flames dance like a token
The amulet, it burns so bright
The jeweled dagger hits its mark
And with a glance up to the skies
The spell now forever done
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