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You have seen it all before

and needed no holy shrine

for your blood was of the earth

and will be once again

Her words

were softly spoken

as She bestowed

four gifts

 

In my right hand

a blade of red

blood - red

 

In my left hand

a ball of fire

flames intense

 

On my left shoulder

a proud raven

observer of the ages

 

On the right of my chest

a spiral pressed into my skin

absorbed and faded

 

As I knelt before Her

head bowed in reverence

I felt the shift

 

All that had passed

all that is now

all that will be

 

My soul has returned

to this weakened body

the trauma mine to own

 

Yet in that trauma

I have paused

painfully grown

 

Her words

so softly spoken

reminded me I have returned home

 

I no longer yearn

for death to silence

chaotic hours

 

I no longer kneel

before the daggers

of life

 

I kneel only to Her

graced by Her strength

will rise

Poetry ©2017 Vicki Ruth Kent

Image by Vicki Ruth Kent

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