Shriveled toes moving forth on muddled brown soil,
sending chills down the morose spine of brutalities.
Three hundred and fifty four days numbed in tyranny,
she crossed them in white on demeaned prison walls.
On twelfth of May, paced 20 yards in 20 guarded strides,
she now gleams her tattered uniform in jubilant pride.
Time to fly back to her nest like a migratory bird,
her chained hands released from blood red scuffles.
Chapped lips spill her bravery in rubies of free verse,
her solitude of raging strength somersaults as music,
her feet cleanse carpets of buried ashes in emerald blue.
Behold! A warrior glides over asleep pastures of onyx,
golden hues awaken rustling leaves in pearly drizzles,
lilac sunrise embraces her freedom veiled in sepia light,
rising spirits back in homeland, roars the prisoner of war.
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