The Transformation
Solitude
I remain free
my own lost saviour
a follower of no-one
sorcering a new novena.
Awakening
I still storms
in steadfast spirit
a respectable sinner
proclaiming the illicit.
Doubt
I demure uncertain
face reveals and veils
heart throes stone to flesh
keeping close my seven devils.
Fortitude
I am graced
with all virtues from history
my archetype immortalised
amidst this scripture of mystery.
© Katypoetess 2016
Cynthia Buell Thomas
Tue 20th Sep 2016 12:08
I think: your womanhood is breath-taking; your mind is a mine of great depth and width; your words are drawn from challenging resources.
If that sounds preposterous, so be it.
Haven't quite figured out 'Doubt' with 'demure' (beautiful word!); must be that 'uncertain' attaches to 'face' on the following line.