Deah Caldwell Poetry

She is at war.
She is in the throws
of combating her insecurities.
She is in the trenches,
finding a new way to be.
She is facing down her demons.
She is bloody and bruised.
Some comrades see her open wounds
and are disgusted.
They are scared.
For they are in the trenches, too.
But, those platelets are her war paint;
they are her call to arms.
The only way out is healing,
and she knows who will win.
For no armistice can exist here,
nor prisoners of war–
only the strongest will survive.
And she has the determination
to make the earth tremble.