My fiery sword

I dreamed of my fiery sword again
Lost in the fall
And echoes of battles I don’t recall

Cold iron barrs across shoulders–not the same
As my blade humming from demons slain

A caged tiger in a strange world
A sad lion eons old

The dragons are calling
At the world’s end
And I can’t find my sword
My old friend

Sekhmet or Lions don’t get Eaten

Lions don’t get eaten
But poisonous snakes can still kill them.
Their sharp tongues slash deeper wounds than teeth.
Their bite inflicting pain in the darkest corners of their soul.
And the mountain of power and agility grumbles.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
Hot sand scorching his nostrils.
Sun glare through thick eye lashes.
His mouth as dry as the dessert.
His tongue grates like sand on soft skin.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
A vision of Sekhmet appeared in the flares of heat.
Hovering over the burning sand before she sets her powerful feet,
gracefully into the smoldering grains. A sun crowning the warrioress’ head.
‘My son. I won’t see you defeated.’
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
‘I bestow you the powers of a hunter.’
‘I bestow you the powers of a warrior.’
‘I bestow you the powers of love.’
‘I bestow you the powers of healing.’

‘Rise!’

Tired the lion rose from his poisonous slumber.
Dazed by light and heat, he pushed himself up.
The fur between his toes came into focus.
He rose his head and shook his mane.
Fine dust made him sneeze.

Now where was that snake?

Frost Giants

Frost giants were looming in the dark shadows of the valley.
Waiting for her to walk into their trap again.
Your soul is ours.
They chanted disguised as demon wolves—yellow eyes gleaming in the night.
Your soul is ours.
They chanted disguised as birds with broken wings.
Your soul is ours.
They chanted disguised as lovers with blue eyes.
Your soul is ours.
They chanted disguised as abandoned puppies.
Your soul is ours.
They chanted disguised as husbands.
Your soul is ours.
They chanted disguised as books of adventure.
Your soul is ours.
Frozen air hummed in the midst of summer.

But then the lion roared.
His heavy mane shaking in anger.
When the lion roared
Light broke through the ice.
Her wings unfolded to full size.
Warmth on white down.

When the lion will have roared the curse will have been broken.
Until then hold on to Michael’s sword, sever the ropes of ice.
Blue cloak protecting against the cold.