On a cool April night,
Thunder loud as a jackknifed truck
Hail as big as boulders
Dropping from the sky
Zeus’ fury smashes the window
At the empty coffee shop
Disturbing the Zen of the artist,
She pushed herself closer to the table in fright
The artist now anxious,
Seeing the shattered glass
As a reflection of her past
She pulls out her pen
Using it as a weapon to
Battle the demons that have
Awakened from their slumber to disturb her once again
She fights with words
Words expressing regrets, resentment
The hermit refuses to back down
Taking the world into her hands
On the pages of her immaculate notebook
The commotion surrounding
Doesn’t faze the hermit
Baristas sweeping the debris,
Passerbys lend a hand
Roaring winds sends a message
A tattered postcard of Paris
Bringing the hermit to tears
She learns her destiny
It’s time to tear down the wall,
Return to society from self exile,
A place where she once shone
Brightly like the sunset
Over the Seine
It’s her turn to shout out
Her battle cry of freedom
