She Who Dances With Death
A mother’s daughter
Born to this
To shoulder pain
While others live free
She is meant to break and reform
Meant to become something else
For something else
It must be in the blood
Or somewhere deeper
The soul
Now
Broken again, but this time into something fiercer
How will she fit this world now that she dances with death?
Does something simmer through the bloodlines?
Something ancient?
Something angry?
Or something loving like a desperate parent?
This time she has been remade
Is she too much for this world?
She feels it in every bone in her body
Like a fever’s ache
She’s
Ferel
Unbound
Wild
Too wild for peace.
Freedom beckons
Tugs
At her warrior’s soul
Sacrificial and broken
Freedom means pain and fear and anguish
But, that is what she knows, what she wants, what she is
Freedom knows no peace
And, the warrior laps at the fear
She bathes in it
Wears it like a paint of war.
She basks in the sweet, rotten smell of it
Fear feeds her
The One Who Dances With Death
So she will try and try to live with joy with happiness with contendness
But, happiness is tied to peace
And the warrior, too new and too ancient all at once, she needs the fear
She needs that freedom
As surely as she needs air for her breath
Still,
There is a tether
From before she broke
There is love
But, not any love
It is the most feral of loves themselves
The only kind feral enough to soothe her
To hold her
Other loves are too pliable, meager, gentle for her iron heart
She withdraws from it
It’s too meek to meet the raging fire the warrior burns with
Especially now
She’s no longer made for it
Maybe she never was
She can’t let it in the way others can
It’s too tender
Too gentle
She needs love that hurts
In every way
As she dances with death
She needs love that will be just as unyielding
Just as desperate
Just as wild
Just as hard
There needs to be pain
The only love she can keep now
The only love that can keep her
It holds her firm
Not without a pain of its own
But, there is no regret to that love
No struggle against it
No resentment
This love
It rages
With fury, it burns
Like a roaring fire, it consumes, yet like life it breathes
And it gives her more LIFE than anything before or after
It lives as deeply within her as her own pain and fear and anguish do
Burning brighter than any peace or joy or happiness within her ever could
Brighter than hope itself
More beautiful than the ocean and deeper, more furious, louder than the sea
This is dangerous love
The only thing capable of tethering the Warrior Who Dances With Death to this world
It is light and darkness
Fear and joy
Love and anguish
The only thing savage enough to stifle the freedom that beckons her
The only caress that can dampen the call to flee
But she is who she is
And while that love that cuts pleasure with pain anchors her soul
Freedom still begs at her
Still beckons
Still lures
A warrior’s freedom cannot be denied
And She Who Dances With Death must fly