She’s Going to Win She Says With a Grin
She weighs in
Ready to leave behind
Dead memory
Old places
Empty face entanglements
Meant for madnessÂ
Of course
But she is not overtaken
Strong and fit
She empties out her sadness
Forgotten tears
Pathetic situations
Deep heartaches
Crazier conundrums
And wounds that seared
A cat of nine lives
She’s knocked them all out
Not on technicality
But on fight…
Every hit she landed
Landslide wins
And scars to prove it
Cuts, brokenness
And heartache
Left her grateful-handed
Who is this that challenges?Â
Who calls herself to bleed?
Her agreesor
Will it pulverize her
Throw the towel and make her ceed?
Knock her down
Knock her out
Make her crazy
Will she steady?
… We will see
Seen with a stride
Honor is on her side
Wonder at her fingertips
Throwing magic
Love she lifts
Lifting a hypnotic punch
She directs the hit
With a sorcerers madness
And her brand
Of divinity
Divine child-like-edness
Grateful, grateful she whispers
And she steps into the ring
Again, for the very first time
She begins…
Smiling
She says she’s going to win.
© Sandy HibbardÂ
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L'amour et Psyche by Francois Edouard Picot, 1817, tells the story of Cupid and Psyche. In the Greek mythological story, Cupid would leave every morning before Psyche woke from her sleep. Psyche's outstretched arm shows the space where Cupid would have been sleeping, however he leaves her in the morning. A great depiction of the complexities of love, status and family. "The angel looks back at the sleeping beauty with a goodbye glance– the older cupid teaching us that love, if anything, is fleeting, and you never know when you’ll wake up and your arm will be outstretched around nothing."
