Rooted in a wooden chair
Fixated on a half-etched thought
Crippled by imagination
Her eyes still focused
On the task that lay ahead
She didn’t grasp much
But she nodded frequently
An unsaid message had to be delivered
Understood or not
Transmission was necessary
In a logjam of her thoughts
And the others around her
She was caught in the middle
Of a brewing storm
Her cheeks reddened
And moist with raindrops
Her hairs flustered
And falling over her face
With the blasting wind
As the mast floated in it
Left and right,
Until it was lowered
But she had that courage
And intent,
To never be beaten
That stood out
She was afraid, yes
But she never relented
High seas, tides
Storms and otherwise
Nothing seemed to matter
Only the destination did
And she walked the distance
With such ridiculous ease
As if
There were no hurdles
Not for her
She subdued each one
She never cared for appreciation
For her
It was her destination,
And her valor
She was,
A Gladiator
Without her battlegear,
An Amazon
In the
Eye of the storm


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