Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Not now,, she softly, quietly pleaded with the landshark, while it strived to tear at the jug, attempting to get her attention. But she couldn’t fathom it at the moment, hands tightening along its rim, gnawing on places her heart had never gone. Into anger. Into rage. Into mourning and grief and a longing for her loved ones that she couldn’t have again.
And she didn’t really care that he was just here to provide water. Her eyes, much like flint, narrowed, and the traces of her innate kindness were traded for a neutrality that probably didn’t suit her. “My sister is dead.” A bold statement, tearing at her soul, fighting off an onslaught of something behind her gaze. “And many others.” Innocent lives, buried under rock and rubble and towers crumbling down. “Did that solve anything?” His actions? The retribution and vehemence? Had it been worth it?
And she didn’t really care that he was just here to provide water. Her eyes, much like flint, narrowed, and the traces of her innate kindness were traded for a neutrality that probably didn’t suit her. “My sister is dead.” A bold statement, tearing at her soul, fighting off an onslaught of something behind her gaze. “And many others.” Innocent lives, buried under rock and rubble and towers crumbling down. “Did that solve anything?” His actions? The retribution and vehemence? Had it been worth it?
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
