And there she stood.

Her bright eyes clouded with storms,

Her arms hugging herself as if to stay still,

As if to remind herself to be anchored

As if to tell her to let go.

She hung her head low,

the same head that carried her bountiful curls

her ancestors had fought for

that her own mind had tried to slather away 

with the hot iron and cold gel.

There she stood.

The lion that roared from her mouth

Silenced with the red stick on the lips

The crooked pearls her hands would cover

whenever she couldn't hold back the glee,

Had failed to see the creul rays of the suns in eons.

And there she laid, 

her hopes in one hand

and her dreams in another, 

dropping them both to her sides

to grasp the reality in front of her.