Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

By Snehasree Senthilkumar

the indelible bruises of unspeakable tales, of legends that brought the strongest to their knees

of an armor-less knight who relentlessly swung a shattered sword, a mosaic of shrapnel of whetted steel.

of a beaten-up soldier who got off her knees, spat blood into the dirt, and armed with retribution to the teeth.

of a crucified phoenix who was reborn from the ashes, embers in her eyes blazing with the refusal to yield.

the punisher was merciless, the stakes were high, the storms were catastrophic, and the gashes cut deep

but the pain became her talismans of wisdom, and the voice whispered

“who’s afraid of little old me?”

By Snehasree Senthilkumar