Wednesday, April 3, 2013

The Forgotten Warrior

She plies the skies
For enemy eyes
Always alert
Always ready.
Her Falcon's talons
Ready to strike
At mach 2.

Warrior princess
She is the almost
Forgotten warrior.

Not her story
Has tried to erase
The lives of the great female knights.

She joins the ranks
Marches stride in stride
With sisters who have gone before.

Like Queen Tamar,
Zenobia and her daughters,
Who held the mighty Romans at bay.

Joan D'Arc
and Ahhotep,
Warrior Queen of the Nile.

Fu Hao
The priestess general.
And the cunning Artemisia.

And many more,
Who passed the sword
Like a gift from Ishtar,
Of Love and war,
Or from Athena
Athens Protector,
The Creator and destroyer of worlds.

Worlds without end,
Worlds full of men,
Killing one another.

It is only in the divine feminine warrior,
That we find the mixed blessings,
Of love and strength,
Creation and destruction.

Her fierce nature
Roots both her passion
And her protection.

She is channeled,
To another place,
Another time,
Her passion,
Are called upon,
By the nature of another woman,
Thousands of miles from home.

Don't ask
Don't tell.

Out in the jungle
A warrior cries,
Struck down in his prime,
By bullets strafing in wild lines.

He holds hopelessly to his guts
Now worthless.
The pain subsiding,
The endorphins lulling him into a

The pain in his mind
About to also be dispensed,
The rapid crunching of the foliage
Disturbing sweet impending darkness.

It's too late,
He knows,
Whether friend or foe.
He looks up into the tear-stricken eyes
Of a friend.

“Oh my God,”
His friend cries.
“You'll be okay.
Medic! Stat!”
And gathers the fallen warrior in his arms.

It's too late for me.
But please one thing before I die.”
“Anything, dear friend of mine.”
“Call me Judy one more time.”

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