She is a Fighter

She is a fighter.
She is free, but she is a fighter.
And she recoiled from the world
To have a timeline of her own
A time to see life in its wholesome glory.
She will dance like there is no tomorrow
She will sing till the walls cave in on her
She will fly until the feathers become wings
And the flaps forsake seasons.

She will feel the waters running through the scalp of her head,
down the curves of her back
She will wear heels and walk into building higher than her height
Buildings where she knows no soul
She will walk shoulders squared,
head held high, hips swaying, heels crossing,
smile blinding, confidence daring and aura alluring.
The crowd will remember her face but never catch it.
She will sing songs and hum to strange beats
She will remember the She in everything and from everything.

She will smile because she is finally free
She will say "so good to be me"
She will finally breathe
She will finally scream
And it will finally feel good to be the She
Because she is free, but she is a fighter.

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Yours truly Mercy Patrick.