her burning breast

and she stood there,
looking at the world
with blood-curdled eyes,
her majestic silhouette
embossed upon
the evening sky,
holding
her burning breast
and her raging gut
in the stillness
of her breath,
as her tousled hair
flowed wildly,
flicking the wind,
ready for a war
that must be fought,
where there would be
no losers,
only hearts threshed
and flung open,
exploding
into silent pearls,
holding questions
about devotion and justice,
and a truth
that will be burned
into existence,
willed into presence,
with the fullness
of this one life
lived for herself.