Awoken.

Promo Y Awoken Plain

She rests, but no longer sleeps.
Restless, indefinite rage
Writhes within her,
Churning fury,
Sulphuric bitterness
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.

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