Part Oracle, Part Warrior by Aslam
part oracle, part warriorAslama crescent moon, hangs like a scaron her shoulder’s silence.her lips sealedby vow or violence.her eyes do not ask.they know.they have watched empires bleedon blades of their own lies.she stands in gray,spine unbent,each scar a sentenceshe never had to explain.call it rebellion.call it myth.a womanwho no longer waits.she is the ink and the echo,the storm braided into calm.you may look,but you will not read her.not everyone seeswhat silence reveals.so i offer you a line,a voice shaped by defiance,a presence drawn in truth.let me speak for her,since her lips are…
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