A Version of a Woman in Time

Cruelty wears a crown in a cloaked place, cold-blooded grins behind mirrored faces. Remorse walks the halls bartering tattle while I fracture. They crowned me in shame, but within a queen still rises. They buried me in a fire of hell, But like ash-gray smoke, I rise and swell. I am the silence of the crown, gone through ups and downs stumbled in the dark multiple times but my spirit still my heart and mind. I am a teacher, a child, a guardian and a shadow behind my past. But a strong woman who will still rise from the stillness of darkness. Inside of me multiply like smoke and breathe: into silence of forgiveness and hope. Yes, still I rise, a whisper stitched in storm- a sovereign spirit-fearless and warm. The tortured self becomes the flame not burned but lit beyond their shame like the shimmering star, shining bright afar! This is me, a version of being a woman in time and forever be!