By Indrima Upadhyay
She chases the solitude of nothingness
She is the citadel of shyness.
Always unfathomed and untainted
Her soul feral and curious.
She is raised from the ashes
And forged in fire
She walks with poise
On a boulevard of briar
And her veins write a story
Of strength in a perfect calligraphy
After all she is hurricane and sunshine rolled in one.
Life has left on her it’s gorgeous emblazon.
Crucified time and again by erudite discussion.
She spares herself for ravenous exploration
She is a maiden with no interest in knight
Rather in a sword of her own.
She is that princess who saves the prince
And kills the dragon.
She may get hurt but never falters to her knees.
Vim, vivacity and poise she breathes
She is neither a conundrum to be solved
Nor a panacea to be kept.
She is just sorcery personified.
And who dare deny
She is an apocalypse
Not the kind you run from
But the kind you crave to chase
And oh my darling if you don't already know
You're lucky to have danced in her sunshine,
Of the queer life of the girl in garnet!