They are the girls who rose from flames, draped in
the flickering amber
sparks
alight where their eyes should be
trembling
lashes, glittering with dews of
anger
dripping from muted tongues.
They wear no armour
no chain linked breasts
no dagger between their fingers
They do not smile like us
their laughs echo different to ours
But gaze upon their shoulders,
O wise one,
their scraped hands and knees,
have you ever seen such
twisted beauty?
Burnt raw
black and
scarred and
empty
and yet
Past the hollow collarbones and
ripped lips, the kingdom of
storms on stained
cheeks
there is a softness in those flames
a whisper in the crackling
a thirst in the hunger
these are battered souls
war weary
from the battles of their past
but they remain standing
(soldiers' courage)
their grace does not falter
look to them and they might
share their strength
their struggle
their story.
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