Drawing Women Warriors in the Dark - Pain Can Form an Elegant Journey

I reach for my pen
drawing women warriors
in the dark
hoping that I might become one
hoping I might slay that dragon
or at the very least define him.

Pain can form an elegant journey
beautiful
mature
in the end
despite the frailties
and longings for normalcy.
Within this walk
pain can bring either chaos
or resolutions.
Twigs are found
under the wings of birds
that plan well.

I have emerged from the mire
placed my tongue on raindrops
closed my eyes when senses exploded
bathed myself in numbness
at times
just to cope.

This pain
this sadness
this walk
that so often gropes
and feels for me
in the dark
arises
well past promised rainbows.
Quietness seems to glare there
despite hobbled notations
of finding some tune to dance to.

Oft times I feel a presence...
beautiful older women
behind gates that don't open.
Slipping into another time
events of smelling history
and neatly pulled back curtains.
I am wounded by slivers from pale entrances.
I blow them kisses
hoping I survive
never clearly understanding the moral.

I am coated in black.
Or is it a tune of yellow?
A ribbon for my own soul
transfered onto a glass sidewalk
lest I forget my lessons.
Wouldn't you think I'd know them by now?

Pack them away
those diaries that boast no claims for sainthood.
Be positive
quote other people's words
and gain their wealth
of...
of...?

It is within this small second
that I take note of being happy.
I guess at times I expect it to be continual.
Mud blocks stand before the door
and me.
Yet, I will pass them by.
They are just the ways of childhood
bullied by fears
of never holding oneself close enough.

Such an elegant journey
pain
translucent
when held up to the light.

Painted now
those drawings of women warriors
painted with the blood of vacant smiles.
I'd always hoped to induce more.
Perhaps time will uncover a broader narrative.

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