‘A Mystic’ Woman

I saw a mystic woman that day when

Flood lights occupied the four cornered

Space manifested with chalk dust.

I saw this mystic woman that day when

Dogs scrambled all over her, spitting

Words of hatred and misogyny.

It was the day when one of her friend

Was hurt, camouflaged in the battle

Of Seven soldiers.

I knew this mystic woman before this day,

Playful as water, jumping from the hill

Hundred feet above the river, never

Realizing the height or the depth.

But that day I saw her metamorphose

Into a tigress with black stripe-less gown.

I had heard her giggles when she hummed,

“Fire in the mountai

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n run, run and run.”

But that day when fire slithered

Into her turf, she did not run away.

She stood to protect what she believed to be the

Truth and not one moment she doubted herself.

I saw this mystic woman struggling to

Be heard when dogs metamorphosed

Into hyenas trying to strip her flesh.

But it was her body that felt the brunt

And she fell unconscious.

Her comrades, the other tigresses and tigers

Most in black stripe-less gowns protected

Her from kissing the hard earth.

She was now an angel, whom no one could touch.

I saw this mystic woman that day and wondered,

“Where was she before this day?”