She dances a rhythm of those unknown;
long strides of lithe feet, arms swaying.
Her voice a cry of wild abandon,
a roar of anguish; her face awash with grief.
She dances our silenced heartbeats, she is us;
a beautiful battle between loss and resilience.
Her feet side-step your snares, such folly,
as she escapes your reviling claim.
Words are her blade of truth, shield of dignity.
There is power in her nimble movement.
She sways in our honour, our history,
as she breaks the chains binding her body.
Her skin is her own, a form you cannot touch.
Moving to our Spirit; the Dance of the Warrior.
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