She rests, but no longer sleeps.
Restless, indefinite rage
Writhes within her,
That cannot be quenched,
Fueled by distrust
Borne of abuse and betrayal.
Eyes narrowed, she listens intently;
Her nostrils flare; Her tail,
That barbed guardian of her solitude
Flicks in languid warning:
Woe betide the interloper
Who dares disturb the quietude
Of her dark and silent sanctuary.
©2018 Joanne Van Leerdam
If you’d like to know the story behind this poem, you can read it on WordyNerdBird’s blog.